The sun rose in 1054-Spamano
by ActiveGalacticNucleus
Summary: In 1054 the kingdom of Aragon, Antonio's father, visited the city of Rome and brought little Antonio with him. Lovino's world was flipped upside down. Literally. In 2006 Lovino and Antonio kissed for the first time after longing for nine centuries. It was long overdue, but they have an excuse! There was a lot going on in between. Historical hetalia Slow burn. Friends to lovers
1. X Century (Prelude Lovi)

**Warnings:  
** -Pseudo-AU: I'll change various things from canon to make Historical events fit: Character's birth time is one  
-Big warning for Islamophobia, antisemitism, and long etc. The characters have medieval mindsets. I do not endorse a thing they say.  
-I'm not a historian, (but I'm a bit of a geek). Sources are at the bottom  
Thanks to Circus and RuenRose, they are the best Betas ever!

* * *

 **X Century** 962 AD (Character intro)

 **Romano: Romulo and Remo**

 _The she-wolf of Rome raised two twin children. One of them was destined to greatness and became the founder and first king of the great empire of Rome, the other was destined to die by his brother's hand and be forgotten._

"Rome's eyes were glassy, his chalice empty. His lips were red and wine sunk. The door was askew where it should have been straight. He did not want to open it.

Someone knocks on the door, slamming both fists against it. Rome ignores them.

"Papal-States! I'm sorry about your daughter, but you can't avoid this forever!"

"Like hell I can't!"

"Papal-States, I'm the representative of Saint Peter and I swear to fucking God I'll knock the damned door down if you don't open!"

"Go to bloody hell! You, and Saint Peter, for all I care!"

He downs another glass. He doesn't want to face this, and by hell he won't! They had raided him, they had taken the south from him, turning Egypt and the others into more green-eyed, sand tongued strangers, and now they were playing the ultimate joke on him.

More furious knocks on the door.

"For all fucking hell! Rome! Just finish with this! Just see them and then do whatever you want with them!"

" No!"

"Why the hell not?"

"Because, as soon as I see them, I'll know!"

"Christ! Know what?"

"Know if I will die! Know if my legacy has been lost forever! Know if I'll have to live with a bastard culture by my side!"

Almost twocenturies wasn´t enought togrieve the deathof hisdaughter, and the lost of the land of Sicily to the Islamic Empire that rose from the East and took everything in his wake. A green-eyed, wild empire, with a horde of green-eyed masked nations as offsprings, who had taken all North Africa from Rome, Hispania, Sicily...They took Sicily from him, and what is worse, from there they corrupted everything else, corrupted his daughter until her soul bursted, unwillingly pregnant with so muchforeign influence she coudn´t hold herself together anymore. A new nation was born from her death-killed her to be born- he could feel them.

There was more furious knocking. The door cracked. Rome threw his winecup against the door in frustration, but there was nothing he could do. Deep down he knew he couldn't' avoid this forever. The door broke open finally, thanks to the combined efforts of the pope and various soldiers. The servants were scared stiff right behind them, white like ghosts and shuttering. At that moment, Rome hated them all. The, and his boss, and the Islamic empire, and his children, and the entire creation who had put him in the position to see...this!

"Nonno?"

A little head peeked through the left side of the door's frame. His mouth, initially an interrogative frown, changed into a happy smile, eyes widening with delight as he recognized the person that he knew, somehow, he should be looking for.

"Nonno!"The child exclaimed happily and tried to advance. Something pulled him back from behind the wall. The kid turned to wrestle with the unknown force. Rome just turned his back to the door, hands fisted behind his back. Nation's appearance shows their cultural lineage, and he just had to look into those dirty colored eyes to know that he was looking at a bastard culture. One that looked at him with the green mark of the Muslim nations and spoke the language of his daughter with the mouth of an Arab.

"Take that bastard away." He stated. His attempt at a neutral voice could freeze hell over. He had seen just what he feared the most, what would break him the most. His true heir was gone and in her place, the Sand empire had left a cuckoo chick.

"Nonno?" He could feel the eyes of the kid on his back, big, and sad. He could hear the laughter of Sadik, and of all his siblings, laughing at him, bright green eyes sparkling joyfully as they sacked him, laughing at him and spitting on his face as he was down. Why couldn't everyone else hear it too? It was loud. It was right here!

"Didn't you hear me? Take that bastard away from me!"

"N-nonno…?"

"It is disgusting and an affront!" He roared.

"But Sir! T-there are two of them!" cried a servant, overpowering the child's whining, which had melted into tears at the sound of Rome's commanding voice. His eyes never left his grandpa though. They were always hopeful.

"What?"

Rome turned at this. By the crying bastard, that now sobbed with his eyes behind his fists, was a tiny, tender nation that looked just like his daughter. This new child had his arms wrapped around his brother. Twins? It made sense, in a way. The North had been shielded from the Saracens. He walked towards them and kneeled down.

It was fitting, was it not? New twins to build a new Rome. Carefully, he extended his hand and pulled the boy's chin up and towards him. The kid allowed the man to move his face and looked at him with clean brown eyes, just like Rome's own. The former empire examined the second kid's features, and couldn't find a single trait he did not consider under his control. When the kid attempted to speak, he sounded almost like his mom. The broken heart of the old nation twisted with hope for an instant.

"Hello little one" he whispered, addressing the second child with a warm smile. The child looked back at him and giggled. The old empire felt himself smile honestly for the first time in decades. He would not have to raise a cuckoo. His culture wouldn't fade. He would not die. He had a little kid here, all made of himself and of those he had adopted. Sun was rising back up. "Such an adorable thing you are"

Twins, in a way it made nothing but sense. He would have his little Romulus here, the one who would build a second Rome.  
The former Empire took the little kid in his arms. He felt two extra hands cling to him at the same time, but he pushed them away. Something dropped to the ground with a hollow sound. He didn't care much. He was already imagining all the places he'd take his heir and all the things he'd teach him. However, as soon as Rome stretched his knees, the little nation in his arms whined and threw his head down as if he was about to jump down of his Grandpa's arms head first. From the floor, his twin cried too, trying to stand on tiptoes and failing to do. A silver ray of light reflected the edge of that single lock of hair that connected the brothers like a sick joke.

With a quasi-animalistic growl, Rome pulled out his dagger from under the Cardinal clothes. The servants cried out and covered their eyes; the bastard tried to pull away, terrified. The lock of hair made a metallic sound as the blade sliced through it and curled back on itself at each end. Romano and Veneziano looked at each other, confused. They blinked twice and began to cry at the same time. Rome hugged Veneziano in his arms and shushed him warmly while Romano was ignored.

"Someone take care of that thing. Don't let those Eastern animals say that the Roman Empire kills children"

Rome instructed right before disappearing behind a corner, happily lost in his heir's lovely smile and his daydreaming about the perfect room for the little kid. It was a well-intentioned order, but, 'Someone" did not designate anyone in particular, and everyone was far too busy to handle an extra task. One by one, all the humans left. Romano found himself alone in a dark corridor of a gigantic house, still sobbing, eyes closed, hoping that someone would come to him. By the time his crying died out, and he opened his eyes he was alone in the dark hallway and had been for a very long time. It took several hours and the stink of urine for someone to finally stop by and take him to a room.

* * *

Veneciano grew up happy and secluded in the high part of Rome's boss house. The Pope rarely went up there, old as he was, so Feliciano had the whole floor for himself. He lived surrounded by the best that Rome's culture and the cultures of his domesticated barbarians had to offer and was shielded by all their vices. Beautiful paintings and carefully selected books filled with gorgeous illustrations filled the shelves, and whenever his Grandpa was not on diplomatic missions he would take him in long voyages across Christian Europe, where everyone adored them and bowed in devotion to the former Emperor of the world.

Romano grew up kicking and screaming for attention on the kitchen floor. He had no assigned room, no assigned place to be, and no assigned person to look after him. It was a floating task that was passed from one servant to another and nobody ever checked for completion. Feeding him, washing him, or giving him clothes was one of those things that got done when someone stumbled into the task and couldn't dodge it, and it was Lovino learned to chase people, hitting, screaming and threatening them to feed him, cook for him, or wash his clothes. He was honestly terrified that if he didn't they would forget about feeding him and he had plenty of experience and starving nights to back his fear up. He had no schedule. He saw people only as objects one needs to beat to get what you need out of them, much like apple trees in harvest time. He didn't respect his schedules or had the slightest idea of what that meant, he could bang on doors at any time of the day or night, and if he was ignored he'd find a way to break the lock or make even more noise. By the time he had four human years he already knew that he could get anyone to give him anything if he threw a tantrum wild enough or threatened to break something expensive enough. Anything except their company, but what was that anyway? He was always mad at people, he didn't know what else to use them for.

Nobody dared to scold or hit him. It was not worth the hassle. Nobody would thank them for trying to discipline the wild beast and no servant wanted to bring Rome's attention on themselves and the poor job they were doing of looking after the brat by giving him a red cheek, during the scarce time the former Empire was in town. It was easier to just walk away, or even run away. The brat couldn't run that fast anyway, he was little, it was easy to lose him in the maze-like always and make the little fucker someone else's problem. If Rome assigned tutors to the kid, nobody had the guts to make him go to the lessons, and if the kid chooses to do so nobody would dare to make him work. Lovino just roamed around free like a stray cat around the Pontifical Palace, the streets, the ports, or wherever the heck he pleased to go. It was the dream life of any child! He could extort as much money as he wanted and get away with murder if he threatened to break enough expensive windows! And still, he was miserable.

It was probably because he was an ungrateful brat who never has enough. That is, at least, what Lovino thought. It made sense, and what other explanation could there be? The servants all said that when they thought he is not looking. That, or that he is a punishment sent by heaven, or that he is a bastard and what can you even expect. He didn't know what a "bastard" was, but certainly, it wasn't good. He got a general idea that it meant someone you wish wasn't there.

They were right. Lovino knew that he always got his way and still he was always angry! He wasn't stupid! He knew that he had no reason to be mad! His stupid brother may have grown in a bubble of fantasy but he had run through the dirty ports. He had chatted with the prostitutes and the sailors who at least didn't turn away from him, visited the slave markets of Naples, and the dark corners of Rome in his solitary wandering through his realm. He knew how the world looked like. He had seen children beaten and starved by their parents, and kids as young as himself worked to the bone. He has bragged all in front of them with his flashy clothes and his sweets and bathed in the looks of desperate envy they gave him. He knows they would all die to have his life and that he is lucky. Still, he feels more miserable than anyone on Earth. He is always furious for nothing he can pinpoint and that anger felt so rooted within him that it might consume him to the very bone. It feels as if he was missing something. Something he absolutely needed before he lost his mind completely but he couldn't say what it was. When he looked around his room all covered in shiny things like a magpie's nest he couldn't find a single thing missing. But still, that hole in his chest kept growing darker and wider each day, making him scream louder, and hit harder, and scream in his pillow tore apart by a pain he couldn't even name.

Church is one of the few things that can calm the pain somehow. There is something in the idea of a big, loving person in the heavens staring directly at him that makes the hurt subside. Or not loving. He doesn't even care about it, just the idea of someone minding what he does, thinking about him, is enough. He has never cared about heaven or hell all that much. He had hell inside anyway. But recently, since his Muslim Churches and his Roman churches and his Geek Churches that were like the Romans but did rites different and spoke funny, all talk against each other more and more and he just can't pick, even religion can't soothe him anymore. Screaming at people, hitting them, yelling makes the pain both go away and get worse, but it is something at least so he does that a lot. There is an expression in his land for people like him. "Having a devil inside"He has a devil inside. Sometimes he has nightmares and dreams that the hole grows so big that it gets out of his chest and swallows him whole. When he wakes up panting he sometimes wonders if it may have already happened. He spends all the time he can away from home, materializing across his land to try and distract himself from that goddamned hole in his soul. In Naples, in Sicily, in Bari, always among the cries of merchants advertising their products. He loves markets. They are overwhelming and numb the anger away for some time, but never enough. He can never be normal. He knows that. It may be the bastard thing, whatever it means. It probably means that he is crazy.

* * *

 **Based on** :  
-The Emirate of Sicily(831-1091 AD), and the Islamic influence in South italy.  
Source: "Arabs and Normans in Sicily and South of Italy" by Adele Cilento ( Italian version) , and "The Corrupting Sea" by Horden and Purcell.  
"Inaccuracy" : The "Islamic Empire" was not a thing. I will use this term for simplicity's sake to refer to Islamic Nations as seen from Christian Europe, but it is not accurate. It makes a blob out of nations that were not one by any standard:)  
Accurate: the Pope this year wasn't the most pious or god-fearing man around :p.


	2. X Century (Prelude Toni)

**X Century** 969 AD

Spain:The Sin of the Goths & The Omen of Light and Shadow

" _Once upon a time, right after Rome's fall, the lands of the Iberian peninsula were ruled by the brave nations of the Visigoths. They were strong and proud but were always divided and fighting, for none wanted to recognize the authority of the other. They were so proud, and hated each other so much, that when the Islamic Empire attacked Iberia, they refused to ally with each other, for their pride was more important to them than their lands and their God. For this sin and many others, God allowed the Mahometans to crush them one by one and conquer Iberia. The children of the Islamic Empire became rulers of Iberia as they are today. Every single Christian nation was killed and forgotten. Their surviving people had to run and hide in the northern mountains, where nothing grows. They formed new nations there, and brave fighting counties_ -"

"Like Mom and you, Portugal!" Antonio exclaimed His chubby hands landed on the paragraph as he leaned forward to look at the picture, more of his body outside the sheets than inside of them. Portugal chuckled, and gave a playful poke to the gold cross that hung from his little nephew's neck, making it swing from side to side.

"Back into the covers, little monkey, or I'll stop reading" The kid smiled, apologetically, and snuggled back under his modest sheets, still waiting for the opportunity to sneak out again. The little convent cell was humble and cold, but peaceful. Portugal ruffled the kid's hair.

" _They formed new nations there. They were all hungry and suffered from droughts while the Muslim conquerors enjoyed all their fertile land. They lived in a constant war with the Mahometans from crib to grave because God was punishing them for refusing to fight together. Worse still, nations still refused to unite, fighting among themselves because the sin of pride had not left them._

 _One day, after 220 years of enduring this punishment bravely, all those small, tortured mountain nations faced the threat of final extermination by the Islamic Empire. For the first time in their history, they all allied, just like their ancestors, the dead Gothic kingdoms, had not been able to do. Because they had proven that they were finally learning their lesson, and because they had stayed loyal to the Lord all through their trial, God had mercy on them. He made a great sign in the sky over their united army and sent his Saints to give them a miraculous victory._ "

"And that is how the Christian nations of Iberia understood that to be forgiven of the sins of their fathers, they had to rectify the Goths' mistakes. They had to unite and form one brave Christian nation that would submit to the Lord like the Goths did not. Even though their bosses and nobles were still fighting,-and dicks in general- the humble people of the lands started to marry each other and call each other brother, and they gave hope for the birth of a new nation that would unite the warring kingdoms once and for all... And that hope is you, Antonio!"

Portugal tapped his nephew on the nose and got a happy giggle.

"...But, uncle Portugal...The story says that all our family are friends now, and that's not true! You, and mom, and my grandparents, and dad and his family are still arguing, and fighting for land all the time…" Antonio said, far more calm than he should be. Portugal was silent for a moment, trying to think how to say it plainly.

"Well, yes… We do fight still. The Sin of the Goths runs deep in our veins. It is like a curse, it will until we expiate it. It's going to be hard for us to get over it… but that is why you are here little one! We don't argue nearly as much as before the alliance under the Black Sun, when you were born!"

'I wouldn't have let the asshat of your father come anywhere close to my land and make it back to his alive before that' Portugal finished darkly, deciding to keep that part to himself. Antonio just nodded, taking it all in.

"So, when you grown-ups figure it all out, all your family and my dad's family will merge, and I will become a Kingdom myself?"

"Exactly. Until then you are our little hope for the future"

The kid hummed contentedly, pretending not to notice, and looked at the stars that shone through the thin window of the convent cell.

"Portugal?"

"Hm?"

"Mom and dad don't like each other much." the kid says, meditatively, Portugal realizes he should have run out of the room to avoid the next question a minute too late "If mom and dad don't want to merge in the end...Will I die?"

The thick silence and his uncle's elusive gaze as he hugged him were all the answer he needed.

Once Portugal had left, Antonio held his book under thin strips of moonlight, running his hands gently over the pages. He had wanted to walk his uncle back to his room, and tuck him in, and kiss him goodnight, but apparently, only adults are allowed to tuck people in! Even if it's the adult who needs comforting. So unfair! What is his uncle was crying and all alone without nobody to give him a kiss? Huh? Then what? Did people making the rules think about that?

He pouted, to nobody in particular, and tried to focus on the illustrations to distract himself from his worry. The picture that the monks had made for them, on their boss's orders, were colorful, but they made him feel a bit upset. It was a map of Iberia, all colored and labelled in intricate detail. It had his mom, and Portugal and all his grandparents crammed in the western mountains, and it had his dad and his dad's family all crammed in the border with France, and between them stood Antonio, all big and mighty, which made him chuckle because he wasn't that big at all. Underneath there were the Islamic Empire and his children, all drown far smaller than what they actually were, but in beautiful detail. On the next page, the monks had drawn a portrait of their human forms. The picture was pretty, but it really bugged him. He didn't look like himself at all. It wasn't new. Nobody ever painted him to look like himself while everyone else in his family looked just like themselves (well, Portugal sometimes looked a little strange, but he was the only one). He didn't want to be vain. He didn't mind the little changes like the nose, but...but he was not a redhead! His eyes were not brown! His hair was not straight! It was always the same! Everybody else looked like themselves, his mom dark blond, his dad with black hair, Morocco and Al-Andalus and all the Islamic nations had brown curly hair and green eyes, and tan skin as they should, so obviously the artists had the inks they needed to color him! It was not just this book. Everyone did the same with him! He had been given brown eyes, blue eyes, black eyes, even purple once! Anything but green. Why? And what was wrong with curls? Even Portugal got his hair straightened in all the pictures.

The kid growled in frustration. He knew it was a dumb thing to be mad about, but...he couldn't help it. They all did it, and it made him feel as if they were trying to fix something in him. Is not like he was that hard to draw! Antonio looked almost identical to the sons of the Islamic Empire, and they were drawn just fine! So, if the Monks could draw them right, why couldn't they draw him right too?.  
With a sight, he got ready to pray for his uncle. He knew why Portugal had told him the story of the alliance of the eclipse that night. His family was fighting again and had been losing ground again. His grandpas had poisoned his mommy because they were afraid that she was too strong. Now she was hirt, and couldn't protect Portugal or the others. They had just lost to the Muslims the city of Simancas, the one they conquered when Antonio was born. It was their last position by the river. Their defensive line was completely broken now. They were completely exposed and in too much internal turmoil to fight any raid they might get. It was going to be hard, but Antonio had to get his family to stop fighting, and to make a plan for his people to survive without a line, and to retake Simancas, and to breake a curse, and to do so many things his head was spinning. But his family needed him to, so he would find a way to do it. What good would he be otherwise?

* * *

 **Welcome to the XI Century!**

(The Golden Age of Islam & The end fo the Low Middle Ages)

 _Iberia. 1000 AD_

"Come back here right now, you little monkey!"

"Ñañaña!, I don't want to!" Antonio laughed his uncle's anger as unconvincing as usual. The tilted white sail flapped, viciously pulling his little one-man boat. Portugal had given it to him so that he could teach the boy how to navigate the sea's treacherous winds, but unfortunately, he seemed to be learning a bit too fast for his uncle's liking.

"You're too far from the shore!" Portugal shouted over the sound of the wind, his ponytail flying straight into his mouth as he turned. Behind them, the rocky moores of the Coast of Death were nothing but a thin green squiggle on the horizon. The Atlantic folded and cascaded like dark blue silk embroidered with spume, waves reaching up to kiss the current and just the right amount of wild wind to keep things… interesting.

"I want to see what's out there."

"Toño, come back! I'm serious!"

"No, you're not!" Portugal clicked his tongue. Damn! The kid knew him too well. He was trying to be responsible here! Responsible uncles did not get their nephews lost for good in the middle of the Atlantic! The kid was always so obedient to everyone else! Why not with him?

"You are going to get lost!"

"No, I'm not! You're with me!"

"I'm going to leave you here!"

"No, you're not!" Damn again!

It didn't help that he couldn't stop laughing at the sassy comebacks and grinning with pride as he watched his nephew brave the waves like an expert.

"C'mon uncle! I want to try going further! And so do you!" He did indeed, but he was a respectable adult! Eh..Teenager! He was determined to live up to the label!

"I am not curious at all!" He lied!

"Lying is a sin!" Shit-eating adorable brat...

"What if a giant octopus tries to catch you out there? Aren't you afraid?

"We will cook it!"

"What if we find a Viking vessel there? Huh?"

"Ioshalâ!"

"No! May Allah not will it at all!...And watch your mouth!"

Not that he didn't use the expression himself, but he was trying to be the father figure here.

"Sorry! It just slips out... But if we see Vikings, we'll kick their buts together!"

"That, or Denmark will eat you up as the side dish to the octopus, and I'm not going to help you!"

"Yes you are!"

"Or Norway will, I don't think he is very pleased with the whole burning his ships and staking his prince we did..."  
"He started it!" That was true.

"...First, Denmark would kill you! Then, your mother will kill me! And they don't make uncles this great anymore!" Antonio giggled again

"That is true! But he can't get me...I have a plan!"

As he chatted with his uncle, Antonio kept casually moving the sail to direct himself further into the sea. It took the older man a while to notice, but when he did, the game was over. They were out much too far. Portugal lowered his sail and stopped the movement of his ship.

"Toño, I'm serious. Stop and turn."

The kid stopped his teasing and looked at his Uncle, seriously pondering what he saw. Portugal was clearly trying his best to look serious, But Antonio knew how to break him. He grinned mischievously and with heroic airs said:

" ... I'll say to him, 'Wa-Allah mister viking Nation! I am still little and taste bad with sauce, but my uncle is all juicy and wait-"

"Language! You'll leave Allah alone and say 'salve' to the mister viking Nation, or you'll have to run from me even faster than him" Portugal threatened. Antonio chuckled.

"Sorry! Woalah?"

"No"

"Wola?"

"No!"

"Hola?"

"Sal-ve! "  
"You say woala too!"  
"But only around fam-That is not what we are discussing here!"

"C'mon! Let's go a little further in!"

"Toño…"

"Please?"

Antonio uses puppy eyes, combined with thick lash blinking and innocent smile, the final weapon no enemy had ever resisted. The Portuguese formation is weakened. The soldiers shiver. The line is broken. Portugal sighs, eyes shining with excitement as his hands reached for the control ropes sneakily. The white flag! Victory! Victory!

"... Why are you always getting me in trouble, dwarf?" Antonio's mouth curled into a smirk.

"...Because you're a chicken who always needs me to do things first."

"Pssh..! I'm not taking that bite again"

"AND! My dad sails much better than you!"

"That's it you little brat! You're on!"

Antonio gave a theatrical scream, pulled the sail taught and disappeared into the blue horizon, Portugal darting right behind him. He may not be such a mature and responsible uncle after all, but his nephew deserved to play and be a kid once in a while.

"...sailing in the Mediterranean doesn't even count as sailing!"

"Yes it does!"

"No, it doesn't!"

Fine, he had taken the bite, but deep down Portugal had alwasy wanted to. His little nephed deserved at heast a couple of hours to be a child. He would always try to give Antonio that, even if he got in trouble with the boss later.

* * *

Meanwhile, in international relationships...

 **Italy. Rome.1000 AD**

The pale moonlight of summer slid over the reception hall of the palace, painting the rich furniture white and grey, and illuminating his terrified face. Lovino looked at his grandfather, incredulous. Then at the handsome, blond nation with the slippery smile, all elegant and kneeling to his height but dangerous as a fox in a hen house. France. He looked at his grandfather again and saw no semblance of a smile. He was serious. Oh, Lord! They were both dead serious!

"V...vikings? You...You want to...to...to "inoculate" me with an army of Vikings?" He tried not to stutter, but he was lucky he could speak.

"Don't think about them as "Vikings" mon petit! Think about them as…'Normans." said the kneeling man, his voice sickeningly sweet.

"Normans are Vikings!"

"Well, yes, technically. But I like to think about them more like...my adoptive children from the north, who look a lot like Danes and are really into raiding…" said France with a dismissive wave of his hand. Lovino just looked around. His father's presence and the desire to not disappoint them was the only thing keeping him from running like hell. "And they are Christians...uh...kind of...in their own, murderous and raping way...Just do not focus on those things!" France explained, patting Lovino's head. "Focus on how they can help you solve your... little problem. You know…you're little... Islamic problem…" Lovino felt his face heat up in anger up, but France misinterpreted and took Lovino's hand, patting it reassuringly while a condescending smile plastered his face.

"Oh! Don't be shy! No need to go all red! Growing an Emirate can happen to anyone! It happens in the best families, I'm sure...The important part is that you are giving the right steps to fix it."

This had to be a joke….

He couldn't breathe.

He had heard stories about Vikings. Even knew they had visited Veneziano and had heard him scream and cry for a week straight!

He was feeling dizzy.

Rome kneeled next to France.

"Look, Lovino. We won't do anything you don't want," Rome reassured him, "but you need to understand that this is the opportunity we have been waiting for. The new kid in Iberia is kicking Al-Andalus hard. We can be certain that Sicily won't be getting any reinforcements from Iberia this time, but we don't know how that is going to last. The child could be dead tomorrow for all we know…"

No. No way. Didn't they know what those savages did?

Well, he didn't either! But he'd heard stories!

A lot of stories! They decapitated the poor priest of a little village and paraded his head the last time they visited Vene! Everyone talked about it! He didn't mind if some of his people wanted to be a little bit Muslim. Why did everyone care so much?

"You see? The Iberian kid is also young and he is not afraid of vikings! Are you going to let everyone think he is braver than you mon chou?" France tried, the repulsive slime creature.

"You mean the one who burned them, put them all in pikes and displayed them along the coast? Do you want me to do that?!" Lovino barked.  
"Well, not with my Viking-Normans, but it w-"  
"I don't give a damn abo.."

"Lovino, language!"

"I don't care! I don't care about what anyone thinks! I'm not-I'm not letting vikings in, dammit!"

Time froze, moon rays hanging still in the air as Lovino listened to the echo of his own words. He bit his lip in frustration, as usual, too late. There it was, the absolute disappointment on his Grandfather's face. It always ended like this. He always blew it. He was given very few chances and he always managed to screw them up. Rome sighed and walked away, pacing to calm down. Lovino felt his eyes go wet but tried to keep his pride for...for no reason he didn't have much to lose anyway. He looked away from his grandfather's back, but it was too late. France had caught on the longing in his eyes and smiled knowingly. Romano cursed himself. Don't ever let them see or they will throw it at your face.

"Besides.." the blond whispered, leaning forward as if he was going to share a very private secret between them, his disgusting, silky accent dripping down his lips "...I bet your grandfather would be so proud of you if you said yes like a brave boy and got all cleaned up for him…"

Lovino closed his eyes and froze. It felt like he had been shot.

He should know better. He should really know better!

He definitely shouldn't have a voice in his head saying that maybe it would work this time! But… Rome hated the emirate of Sicily, didn't he? Maybe… this was it…?

He should know better. He really should.

"O-Okay…" he managed to whisper "I-if it's quick, and if Grandpa wants you can-you... can do it, then. You can bring your Vikings here".

France just grinned from ear to ear, delighted and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

"You won't regret it, mon petit. You will see. They will come, do the job and leave. It will be just the tip, I promise. "

* * *

Based on :  
The origin of the Iberian kingdoms and the joint reconquest of them all.  
Sources: Spain's and Portugal's view of their History is based on "Origin and Sacralization Process of the Holy War in Medieval Iberia: its narratives and justification" by Carlos de Ayala and Patrick Henriet (Spanish version)  
*It goes without saying that Portugal´s story is a Medieval Christian national myth, not an accurate report on Arab expansion. It is accurate in the sense that X century Iberian christians believed it, but it isn´t accurate in what it says and is nowhere close to neutral.

Eastern Eggs ;) :  
-The battle in which Antonio "was born"Is the Battle of Simancas, 939, that was preceded by a 95% eclipse. The Arab army for that battle was the largest seen in Iberia ever. Nobody knew how on Earth the Christian managed to win, not even them.  
-Portugal will poison his father´s boss, Sancho I of Leon, after leaving Antonio´s room. Snacho died by poisoned apple (I kid you not) in a monastery owned by the Count of Portugal.  
-Arab expressions that got into Portuguese/Spanish: Ioshalâ= 'may Allah will it' became Oxalá/Ojalá=' 'let´s pray for it to happen'. Wa-Allah= For Allah became olá/hola =Hi!  
-The killing of Norway's prince that Portugal mentions: A battle against a raid of Norweigan Vikings in Galicia, 917.  
-Antonio wants to cook the octopus: Octopus is a typical dish in Portugal and Atlantic Spain.


	3. The Stranger from the West (July 1054)

**XI AD**

 **The Norman conquest of southern Italy** (1016?-1139)

 **The Stranger from the West** (July 1054)

…

His grandfather tried. He really tried. He tried to like Romano, the kid could see it. He just couldn't. Did try to love him, it was just too difficult, and he couldn't do it. It would hurt less if he didn't. That way, Romano knew that. He saw the old man try with all his might to love him, and like him, and smile at him. Rome tried, Lovino would yell for hours to anyone who tried to accuse Rome and say he did not, it was just so impossible that he just couldn't.

* * *

He closes his fists around the ladder's step for dear life, suddenly dizzy. He closes his eyes and breathes deep, once, twice, three times, holding his body tight against the ladder until the pain subsides and the world isn't spinning anymore. Then, he restarts his climb, teeth clenched and breath catching when the pain resurfaces and makes him stop again. All over him he felt the vikings are burning, and raping and looting and fighting Byzantine, and it fucking hurts! It hurts all the time, and everybody just wants him to shut up. No one cares that their fires burn in boils on his flesh, the suffering of the people makes him retch and heave in agonizing sickness, the looting leaves his head feeling dizzy and airy.

"It will be quick" his ass. "Just the tip" his ass.

In the end, France's brilliant plan went like this: a swarm of gold-thirsty, sun flammable animals stormed into Lovino's land. They ignored the Emirate, and went straight to fight the provinces controlled by Byzantine. They guys were great at multitasking so, since they were at it, they also lent their services as mercenaries to all the petty Lombard princes in the area; you know, to get themselves some pocket money. If they couldn't find a war to work in, they would create one. This, of course, meant that internal wars broke in every corner of Romano as his stupid nobles threw vikings at each other, and the vikings in question became filthy rich.

Lovino tried to push this mess out of his mind, but he coudn´t, it just hurt so much!

At this point, Lovino had lost count of how many viking leaders were fighting each other and breaking havoc over his land, and he was sure the vikings had also lost count. He was starting to fear that he would d be in pain forever. Come to think of it, maybe that was the idea. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe it was a punishment for being such a horrible, angry child! He didn't want to believe that his grandpa had done this on purpose, but maybe…

He shook his head to stop the train of tough. It is not the moment for that shit! Not now, not ever!. He had a ship to find. He had a roof to reach and a ship to find.

"Dammit..!" His sweaty hands almost slipped down the last step of the states and off the roof.

He managed to climb up and take position near the edge and produce his small spyglass from the pocket of his jacket. Velvet in July was not a good combination, but he did not dare to take his jacket off. He might get it dirty, and did not want to take the risk. He wanted to get things right this time. He really really did. He didn't even know why.

The hat slid down one side of his face as he wrestled with the object in his hands. The kid needed all his willpower not to throw the damned (but extraordinarily fancy and elegant) piece of trash to the floor and hop on it until the thing learned its place.

But, he just pushed it back in place, cursing under his breath. He was almost never called to attend to visiting nations. It is not like he was hype about the stupid thing, or that he had gotten his hopes high. He was much too smart for that! He certainly didn't like the task of greeting strangers, or missed being with his Grandpa once in a while, even if it was just as room decoration. He...he just wanted to get things right for once. Just that. Not because he thought that this meant anything, just...Just because he wanted to prove that he could do it.

He growled again, low and bitter, closing his eyes for an instant. The fights in Plugia were giving him hell that noon, burning between his shoulders, certainly not helping his mood. Not that anyone cared, right? He probably should not care either. He should be over these things. If nobody thought they were a big deal. He was being his usual coward self. But it hurt so much! It was always hurting somewhere, why was it always hurting somewhere?

"Crap!"

The spyglass slid from his shaking fingers and rolled in front of his knees.

Okay. There was no reason to be this nervous. Was there? It was just a bunch of animals from some sunbaked wasteland West of Italy, and he was quoting the Pope's secretary here. They would just show up, kiss Grandpa's ass soft and tender, and talk about idiotic things. Perhaps all he would have to do was stand there and shut the fuck up all day. He was good at being invisible, wasn't he? There wa sno way to fuck up!

(You'll manage) his own voice echoed in his head.

"Shut up."

He sighed, trying to get a bit of anger to drain from his system, and looked for the spyglass again, picking it up with more steady hands. He could deal with this crap. He could, even with Plugia burning or whatever on Earth was going on now. He had dealt with damned Vikings, and Byzantines, and with the cheese fucking french bastard, who was worse than them all. This Aragon guy was just here for a diplomatic visit, and Lovino probably would not need to talk to him at all. How hard could this task be?

(Like it matters how hard it is, you will still fuck up)

"Shut up!"

Lovino shook his head, trying to get the unhelpful thought out of his head (however accurate). He should be waiting for the visiting nation and his dignitaries in the pontifical palace, but he was suffocating there even more than he was suffocating in velvet under the sun of July. He hated the Palace. He hated his home. He hated how nobody helped him when he cried because of the burns. He tried to spend as little time in it as he could. He would spy on the dock, wait for the damned ship to show up, and run like hell back home. Nobody would have to know. That, of course, if he got the stupid spyglass to fucking work!

"Dammit!" The hollow pain he felt in Bari gave him an extra mean sting; it must be for the sake of completeness. "Fuck! Not helping!"

He didn't know if he was cursing the spyglass or the Normans anymore. He breathed, used to dealing with this alone. Either one was better than to admit that he was nervous about this blowing up in his face. Pulling the sleeves of his shirt to avoid the slippery sweat that coated the entire spyglass at this point, he managed to pick up the object and all but screw it into his eye socket. As he turned the moving pieces right and left the foggy image of the dock came into focus, being pulled farther, and closer, and farther again. He sucked at focusing the damn thing, but he could at least adjust the lenses well enough to distinguish the colors of the flags crowning the forest of ships gathering in the distant port. Four red bars on a bright yellow field. That should not be hard to find.

"The damned idiots must damn love being the goddamned center of attention. That is for sure."

Good, because he did not like being the center of attention himself (or so he said). The more egocentric the visitors were, the less likely they would notice Lovino fucking up (and he would, no question). He growled, already hating the egolatrical strangers he had not met. They sure were like france but even flashier. He raked the beautiful forest of sails and masts big and small, that grew in Rome's port. He entertained himself by criticising everything wrong with every single familiar flag that comes to sight (people need some serious taste policing, damnit) until he saw the one he was looking for. Well, more than saw, he was optically attacked by it. The red and yellow flashed his eyes, too-bright colors popping right on his nose and taking the entire world. He tried to reorient the spyglass to the deck or to someplace not so red as he wrestled with the moving pieces to reduce magnification. Then, the second chromatic attack assaulted his innocently wondering eyes. A bright and flash of green that sent warmth straight to his chest, and a smile that seemed directed only at him.

He dropped the spyglass. Cursed. Picked it up. Dropped it again. Finally retrieved it and bolted back to the Palace to announce the arrival of "the filthy barbarians from the West".

* * *

 **Antonio and the Eternal City.(July 1054)**

 **...**

"...and overall, don't say a word about home unless I'm right there. Not even if you are asked directly. Just don't answer. Is it clear, Tonio?"

Aragon stood proudly at the front of his little ship as if he was on top of the world, delivering orders and advice left and right like saints deliver blessings. He might be a three-county kingdom who got partial independence less than 30 years ago, but he sure had the attitude of an empire. Antonio smiled as he observed his father, halfway between amused and fascinated. He hadn't inherited Aragon's imperial ambition, that was for sure.

"Why is Papal State so dangerous, dad? I thought he was our friend."

"Ah...Were it only that simple." The man gave Antonio a half smile and patted his head affectionately. "Nations don't have friends Tonio. You should know that already."

"Well, but... won't he be in need of allies, now that his Pope and Byzantine's Patriarchs have excommunicated each other? Forever! That sounds bad."

"The sleeping volcano eventually awakes. I have felt tremors lately. We better get on his good side."

"But wh..?"

" Oh! Look! We are almost there." Aragon exclaimed, shamelessly taking advantage of his son's easily distracted nature.

Antonio looked, but saw only rocks and dry bushes, but as their little ship turned around a rocky cape to enter the bay of Rome, the Eternal City came into view, swarmed by a gaggle of brilliant flags and flapping sails. All throughout their voyage, Antonio had been carefully memorizing a long list of things he was not supposed to say or do on this visit. As soon as he laid eyes on the city of Rome, he forgot them all. He even forgot his own name.

Rome's walls stood proud and tall, bearing the scars of centuries. Antonio was hit with a sudden overload of history and stories, all fighting to be remembered first and tearing up his brain in the crossfire. The legendary land that he used to imagine as an ethereal city floating on pink and red clouds when he was little, was there, solid and real in front of him! For a second the young nation felt that he would never be able to breathe again and would drop dead any second. But honestly, he had no objection. Aragon smiled, amused.

"You've never seen it before, have you?" he asked. Antonio couldn't answer. Aragon laughed "Well, obviously I have to take you out of the plains more often."

Antonio followed Aragon in a trance, mesmerized by the city that seemed to touch every century and command every mile. How could people live here without going crazy? It bustled and pounded and Antonio could only answer Aragon in mumbled half sentences as they crossed it. Finally, they came to a plaza where they were greeted by a man-nation with an easy smile and an aura of power so thick it took your breath away. Antonio had to resist the sudden urge to bend a knee. He tried to look at the Papal States in the eye, and couldn't hold his gaze for more than a second. As soon as he looked at him a surge of memories of so many nations that were not him, but were in him now, bursted through his brain, stronger than they had ever done. For an instant he was Hispania and Numantia and so many whose name Rome either created or erased. He was getting dizzy. He did his best to keep his composure, for his father, but all he really wanted was to cry for Uncle Portugal. Portugal always confronted him when he had memory surges, and now he was feeling so many emotions he could throw up. He managed to smile though, and a reverence. He'd never been so proud of being able to stand on two feet. Rome looked amused. He must get this reaction from other nations all the time. If he answered or did anything, he wasn't really there, the fountains,a dn the palaces,a dn the majestic beauty of the city itself were all he could see.

After that, he didn't remember much, just an overdose of beautiful fountains, and buildings, and streets full of history, and at some point the welcomed shade of the Pontifical Palace's hall and the most amazing fresco paintings Antonio had seen in his life. Somewhere, in the land of the living, adults chattered. His father's voice was speaking somewhere in the distance, but Antonio couldn't find the way back. There was just too much to see around him.

Aragon pressed his shoulder, gentle but firm, the sensation guiding him back to his body. He smiled, thankful, and focused in the grounding sensation to drag himself back to the present, little by little. Aragon smiled back, knowingly.

"You are too sensitive to art." His father whispered, amused. Antonio smiled sheepishly. There wasn't much arguing with that.

"Antonio" Aragon continued, louder this time "Why don't you go to play with Lovino, while The Papal States and I discuss some important issues? State matters are not for children."

Antonio nodded. The idea of playtime cleared his mind a little. Besides, he understood the implicit order underlying the suggestion. He was happy to be useful to his father's diplomatic trip by making friends with other young nations! Only one problem though. Ehr... Who was Lovino?

Hm. That was probably something he should have been paying attention to at some point in the past. Unfazed, and used to improvise, he got ready to deduce it. He looked around in search of something, or someone, one could be expected to play with. The cohort of bishops and old priests were out of the question, and there was not much else in the room, besides statues. It was only in the middle of this search that his brain decided to register, for the first time, a grumpy little nation who was standing right by Rome. He seemed to be about seven, all wrapped up in thick green velvet and inexplicable ornaments, with a flat velvet hat to top it all. He had a deep scowl plastered on his face, glossy eyes, and his little nose wrinkled as if he was smelling something putrid. Antonio felt immediate sympathy. If someone dressed him like that, he would have that expression too.

"Hello Lovino. My name is Antonio. You can call me Toñ...ehe...Ton-i-o if you want." the young nation saluted, changing his voice a bit to address the Italian child.

The kid mumbled something in Italian without looking up. So shy and so little! He was going to enjoy being friends with him!

"Let's go, Lovino!" he suggested, extending his hand for the little nation to take "Why don't you show me around? I'm all new and don't know anything. I'll need you so I don't get lost."

Lovino pulled his own hands behind himself, letting out a little whine as his face, impossibly, scrunched up further. Antonio wasn't bothered, but smiled sympathetically. He felt sorry for the kid's manifest anxiety. He hoped he could make him feel better.

Hm.

First things first. He went down on his knees until his eyes were at Lovino's height, not wanting to look too tall or intimidating. He smiled at the kid, showing his honest good intentions, and kept his hand offered, giving him time.

Lovino didn't move though. His neck was so rigid when he tried to move it to glare at Antonio it almost broke. He gave up and stayed still, glaring at the floor and growing tenser by the second, Antonio tilted his head, still smiling. He wasn't shy himself, but he understood it had to be a terrible emotion to deal with and respected it in others. Well, usually. He just sat on his heels and got ready to wait if he had to.

The Papal State gave a step aside, leaving the kid more exposed, which did not sit well with him. With another annoyed growl Lovino forced himself to give a stiff step behind his grandfather. Antonio noticed that the kid didn't cling to the older nation's clothes or even looked up at him as he hid behind him. Weird.

"C'mon, Lovi. We'll have a lot of fun, I promise...I really want to be friends with you..." He coached softly, for no use.

Lovino mumbled something, deepened his scowl and glared at the floor even harder. He may be trying to glare a hole deep enough to hide in. Antonio chuckled at the thought, which turned out to be a very bad idea. The kid went even stiffer and the young Iberian was sure he had stopped breathing. His face was growing so red at this point it was no longer funny. Antonio leaned his head lower to try and find Lovino's eyes from a respectful distance.

"I'm sorry Lovi. I didn't mean to upset you. I wasn't laughing at you. I'm just happy to meet you, so I laughed. I'm really sorry if I made you feel worse."

As Antonio tried to talk the kid out of his hiding place, he noticed the adult's eyes on him as if they were expecting him to get upset.. Why would he thought?He was only a bit concerned. The young Iberian decided to ignore the adults and lowered his head even more to try and get a look at Lovino's angry red face. He managed to catch Lovino's eyes for an instant. They were all wet and something far too intense was burning and twisting in them. Lovino had turned his head away sharply. Then, quick as lightning, the Italian stepped forth and slapped the hand of the the other kid with every inch of strength he had. The slap echoed through the entire room, high ceilings and painted clouds included.

Then, there was silence.

Terrified silence.

A couple of soldiers steadied themselves to act.

Lovino made a weird sound, like an injured animal, and stepped back again, retreating behind his grandpa. Eyes moved from him to Antonio, shiny with terror, imagining the repercussions of that attack of one nation on another. War, retaliation... Antonio was a wild frontier nation with a reputation of callousness and the maturity of a nine-year-old. What sort of rabid vengeance would he unleash?

Antonio made a bit of a pout and retired his hand, looking up at the adults in search of guidance. He looked more hurt than angry.

"I'm sorry. I think I scared him."

There was a collective sigh of relief and a sudden wave of knee-weakness among the crowd that got the Iberian really confused. With a sigh of defeat, the Papal States stepped back.

"I am sorry about this, Aragon, Antonio."

"It is okay." The young Spaniard tried to dispel the tension, (even though his feelings were a bit hurt)"He is just shy. I understand"

" It seems you will have to play with Feliciano instead." Roma sounded deeply unhappy with the idea. Antonio nodded and looked at him, honestly sorry for whatever he might have done to contribute to the events.

"I am sorry, Sir."

"It's not your fault."

Antonio's nodded, still feeling guilty for whatever he may have done to contribute to the problem, and stood up again. Rome turned and looked around the room, in search for someone to take him to wherever Feliciano was. He didn't look happy about it, but before Antonio could give this much thought, his refined battle reflexes made him jump to the side. Antonio managed to face the danger just in time to see Lovino finish his furious charge, head first like a bull and at the height of where the Iberian's stomach should have been.

"Hey!" That had bothered him.

He looked at Lovino, incredulous. He was starting to feel annoyed. Worse, he was starting to feel attacked. His senses had sharpened in a battle-ready scan of his surroundings and his blood was pounding hot. Antonio looked to his father for guidance, familiar enough with his own temper to know this were not good signs, but before he could say anything, he felt his hand snatched away with a hard slap and some pulling. Lovino had made his angry way back to him and was trying to drag him somewhere. Without even looking at him, by the way. Well, that was not going to happen.

Antonio knitted his brows, put his free hand on his wais, and just refused to walk. Lovino found himself frustratedly stuck, his charge unwilling to move and surprisingly strong.

The humans observed the scene with worry. The patient young nation was started to look irked at this point and, as thankful they were for the patient he had shown up to this point, they didn't think he was going to keep doing so for much longer.

"I am not sure this is a good idea, Aragon. Your son is a nation of war. No matter his human temper…I'll send Lovino to his room, and Antonio can come with us."

"Oh. Do not worry. Antonio is a very patient child. He never loses his temper. Right Tonio?"

"...Eh, well dad, actually..."

A warning crossed his father's eyes. Antonio lowered his head, getting that it was not a question a bit too late. He sighed and nodded, unenthusiastically. He said bye to the present dignitaries in the most polite terms and allowed the fuming Italian to drag him towards wherever he was planning to. The kid refused to answer any of his attempts to communicate, and that was not helping cool his temper at all. At this point his objectives for the evening had gone from having a good time with the kid to keeping himself from doing something he'll have to seriously apologize for later.

The rabid little beast took him to an interior garden, similar to the one Antonio had been staring at when he arrived. The pleasant spot was secluded, one single door for access, and was speckled with benches and lovely vegetation. A simple fountain added moisture to the air, helping compensate for July's heat. Lovino just pushed him inside, hands flat on the curve of Antonio's spine. It hurt. Not much, but enough to irritate him further. He might be patient, but he was also nine and being rudely mistreated. He stumbled forward with a long step and turned around angrily.

"Stop doing that! What is the matter with you?!"

Didn't Rome educate his grandsons at all? If he had ever treated anyone like that his mom would have justly slapped him into next century! And Portugal right after her, to make sure he got the idea.

Lovino didn't even look at him. He just walked past him in blind rage, went straight to the first stone bench in his way and threw himself dramatically on it. With a sight, he brought his knees up to his chest and hid his eyes behind his tiny fists.

"Dammit!" he croaked behind closed teeth " Dammit!Dammit!Dammit!.."

The little boy was crying.

Antonio's anger faded away.

* * *

The first glimpse Lovino got of Antonio was of his two green eyes, so gentle and full of light they made him feel safe and cared for even through the spyglass. But that first impression didn't count, because he had clearly been in the sun for too long and suffering from heatstroke at the time.

The first actual look Lovino got of the Hispanic idiot was that of a happy, long-legged asshat with bright green eyes that looked through him as if he were invisible.

Lovino had looked away, snorting with contempt. Like he cared if that peasant from the ship looked at him or not. The kid was apparently too poor to afford anything but perfectly comfortable, summer-friendly clothing anyway. They weren't even nicely dyed! They were light and caught the light, giving him a strangely mesmerizing, ethereal glow. Which was lame. The idiot clearly didn't even keep a comb on him because his hair was wild and lightly dusted in sea salt. He must've been leaning over the deck and having fun like a moron, staring into the horizon, excited to see Italy, no, Rome. No one was excited to see him, it was Rome. And look at him! Sparkling with joy as he looks at perfectly ordinary things! He didn't even have a fancy hat to make his life miserable, just a simple one with a wide brim that kept the sun off his eyes. Look at him! All happy and content with his life. What a loser! Lovino should pity him. The Italian would be doing him a favor if he decided to even talk to him!

Antonio smiled at Rome, his face lighting up with the same, warm way Lovino had seen through the spyglass. The Italian teared his eyes off the kid, but the image stook with him regardless, the smiling green eyes and the little holes at the corners of the kid's mouth and the way they made you want to look at it forever. He felt his cheeks grow hot and bothered. He kicked a small stone and risked another glance up

"It's a pleasure seeing you again, Rome."

"Please, call me by my current name. The past must be left behind." said Rome through a clenched smile.

"Indeed. We hope we both can do that."

"It is a shame not everyone in Iberia seems to agree. How are Leon and his kids doing?"

The black-haired man, who looked like France if France was an ugly, bulky mountain goat with no taste in beards, laughed politely to the poisonous joke. He was also ignoring Lovino, but that was okay because he was also wearing a useless hat, and too-warm clothes, and Lovino didn't care about him anyway. The young nation by him tough smiled politely in the same direction, as his eyes started to wander around, towards the buildings and the fountains, like two green leaves in the wind. They went up and down and around with the currents, but never fell on Lovino, and the Italian found himself following their flight and hoping they would eventually fall on him. As soon as he noticed he looked away and back to his fingers, which he started trimming to distract himself from still hoping a little.

When his undisclosed hopes were not fulfilled, shyness turned into rabid anger. Lovino should probably be paying more attention to the diplomatic chatter going on over his head. Instead, he decided to concentrate all his anger in hopes that, somehow, it would become dense enough to attract the Iberian's gaze towards him. Surprisingly enough, this plan did not work. The long-legged bastard just kept looking over Lovino's head at Rome. Of course.

(Why would anyone ever want to look your way, anyway?) he voice in his head laughed. He pressed his teeth hard, a sting behind his eyes.

When the kid from the ship looked at Rome though, or at what he had built, he did so with absolute adoration, as if he thought that nobody ever would be as impressive as him. That hurt a little. Well, a lot. He was set up for failure from the start. Everyone looked at Rome like that, of course. Lovino had to look like a cruel caricature in comparison.

"They will come around, My Lord, I have complete faith in it. Once Castile comes around Portugal will follow".

"Let's all hope so...Which brings us to this young gentleman. He is your heir, I assume."

Aragon brought the kid back from the clouds with an affectionate pat on the shoulder. He looked lost for an instant as his eyes refocused, but recovered very fast and vowed, offering the usual pleasantries to his grandfather.

What an idiot. He had been entirely out of it until now; there was no doubt, but it meant that the green-eyed bastard wasn't trying to be mean. Lovino looked down, feeling his face heat up again. Of course, nobody noticed. That was a good thing. He did not want to be seen anyway, let alone while all red.

Yeah, nobody noticing...it was a damned good thing. He liked things this way.

"Yes, he is."

"Lord Rome, it is an honor to meet you."

"I am glad to meet you too. What is your name, young man?"

Lovino felt his ear tune in despite himself.

"Antoño"

SMAK!

His father slapped the boy smartly upside the head. What the hell? Lovino could practically feel his own scalp stinging. The idiot didn't even complain, he just flinched a bit and straightened his back as if nothing had happened. His cheeks were pink with shame though.

"Anton-i-o" the child muttered, wrestling with unfamiliar sounds in his mouth.

"Please, forgive him, Rome. He spends far too much time with his mother."

"Ah, I understand. .Antonio of Iberia, it is a pleasure to meet you too. Do you have a nation name?"

"N-not yet, Sir"

"Oh. I see. You know? You remind me a lot of one of my kids. Not quite the same though."

The revelation came as a shock.

Lovino, usually hyper-aware of everyone's smallest expressions of disgust, especially Rome's, was the only one who noticed.

Rome hated that kid's guts. Just like he hated Lovino's, only worse.

As they made their way home, Lovino couldn't help but check on Antonio constantly, trying to find what defect he had that made him so undesirable. He looked like a good person, if a little airheaded. Lovino liked him. Or at as much as he could like anybody. Maybe that was why? They were both wrong, so that is why Lovino didn't notice anything strange.

He kicked a stone that accidentally hit one of the cardinals in the butt. The man turned and glared at him, almost baring his teeth. Lovino scowled and stuck his tongue at him. The old man rolled his eyes, giving up. Whatever.

Maybe that was it. He was wrong too. He disgusting, useless and always angry. A little demon. Maybe that's why he saw Antonio as an angel by comparison(had he said that?). But Grandpa Rome was never wrong, and if his eyes said something was wrong with Antonio, something must be wrong. But he was kinder and more polite than Lovino, and certainly looked stronger. If he was disgusting, Lovino was worse, but Rome didn't look at him the way he had looked at Antonio. Lovino realized that if he were not family, Rome would probably look at him worse than he did at Antonio.

He now understood why Grandpa had brought him and not Feli. He did not want to risk Feli being polluted by this other monster. Not like that cared anyway. He had not been excited about being brought along in an important diplomatic enterprise.

(What? Did you think you were going to be useful for once? That your grandpa was giving you a chance?)

"Shut up!"

At least he was useful to keep Feli happy. He couldn't recall what Feli looked like, but he remembered caring about him, vaguely, when he was really really little. He cared for him still. He could at least do that. Just make sure he took all the dirty tasks so Rome could have at least one heir to be proud of...

"Antonio, why don't you go to play with Lovino, while The Papal States and I discuss some important issues? State matters are not adequate for children."

What? No. Nononono!

Lovino jumped in alarm.

He had been distracted! This was a sneak attack! He was thinking damn it! And why was everybody looking at him!? Nobody EVER looked at him and now, suddenly, everyone did!

His natural shyness caught up with him. His face caught fire. His thoughts became blurry. He suddenly felt whiny and exposed and self-conscious. He wanted to lash out, but couldn't, because he was trying not to mess up and be a good kid and fucking behave for once! He couldn't yell, and he couldn't hide, and he couldn't run. What was he supposed to do? He found no answers as he looked up a bit, only more eyes. Eyes everywhere. If the foreign kid was so bad, why have someone play with him? Suddenly he felt a rush of panic, that whatever that made Antonio so despicable would rub into him and made him even more unlovable than he already was?

The thoughts in his head became shorter and more choppy the longer he stood there. Lovino didn't play well with others. This kid was a stranger. One that scared him. He messed up. Everyone looking. Trapped! He can barely breathe. His mind is going in circles. At this point, all he can think is ' d _on't cry, don't cry, don't cry'_ and then, when he remembers he is embarrassing his grandpa _'don't cry and don't swear, don't cry and don't swear_.' No! He can do this. He will. He just needs some time to pull himself together. Why would people not give him time damn it?

His jaw hurts from clenching it so tightly. _'Don't cry, don't cry._ ' He kept thinking. Then two warm eyes enter in his field of view, with a reassuring voice trailing after them. He feels his much-needed alertness drop a little.

He relaxes.

He notices.

He panics.

* * *

After that, all he remembers is saving Veneziano from being brought into this mess by snatching the barbarian and dragging him with him, coming here, and being aware that he had failed spectacularly. Again.

"Dammit!"

A sob

"Dammit! Dammit!dammit!"

* * *

Author notes:

Based on:  
-The final rupture between the Roman Catholic Church and the Orthodox Eastern Church  
-The first years of the Norman conquest of South Italy.  
Source: "The Papacy and the Kingdoms of Aragon and Navarre until the XII Century" by P. Kher and "Arabs and Normans in Sicily and South of Italy" by Adele Cilento


	4. Friends at Midnight (1054 AD)

_The weak hates, the strong forgives.(Italian Proverb)_

* * *

After that, all he remembers is saving Veneziano from being brought into this mess, coming here, and being aware that he had failed spectacularly. Again.

"Dammit!"

A sob

"Dammit! Dammit!dammit!"

When Lovino finally uncurls from his place on the stone bench, far before he is actually feeling calm enough, he finds the Iberian sitting on the grass and watching him silently. He scowls at him.

"What are you staring at, creep?"

"...Are you okay…?"

"What do you care, idiot?" A small twitch in the kid's brow told Lovino that the Iberian wasn't immune to annoyance. Good "You must be an idiot to stay here. A big idiot"

This time he didn't get what he wanted, much for his confusion. Actually, he got quite the opposite, the Iberian's eyes narrowed slightly in a canny expression, as if he had caught a clue to something. Antonio decided to play it off as nothing, but he was paying more attention to the Italian than before, and that astute twinkle in his eyes didn't disappear. Lovino's nerves go on edge, feeling naked.

"You didn't seem to be okay. It felt wrong to leave you alone."

"Staring doesn't count as keeping company!"

"It's better than not being here at all. Or at least, that's what I think."

"Look at something else!"

"Like what?"

"Shut Up!...Just go away."

"You don't look okay. I can't leave you alone" he repeats patiently, which annoys Lovino even more, and that sharp attention and clever twinkle in the green eyes is starting to make him naked. He almost wishes Antonio went back to looking past him.

"W-w-well, I'm fine! Just...just...just shut up and go away!"

"Hmm… away where? I don't know the house"

"A-awa-"

'Away to the other bench?"

"Just shut up and stop staring at me you bastard!"

The balance of power had just swifted.

Antonio opened his eyes comically wide at the curse word. especially coming from a mouth so small!

He had...Had he...Had he really...?

…

Like, really?

That word?

He blinked a couple of times.

It wasn't just any curse word. It was a big fat one! A very big fat one! Back among his people that insult was a valid reason to kill somebody! He knew he should be extremely mad right now. But he wasn't. He didn't know why. It just didn't sound… real?

Yes. That was it. It didn't even sound like the kid knew what the word meant. It just sounded sad. The tiny kid, eyes red from tears, wearing clothes that probably cost more than anything Antonio had ever seen, barking like a dog, and undeniably lonely. He couldn't feel mad at that.

"Alright" He agrees, with a nod and a smile. He then points at a patch of grass near the fountain " I'll be here, okay? ...In case you change your mind and want to play with me." The Italian looked at him, oddly, then turns his nose up and turns his back obstinately on Antonio.

From the corner of his eye, Lovino observes the foreigner explore his surroundings. After some perfunctory nosing around, Antonio gets himself all set with some branches, some round stones of bright colors, and two pinecones. Lovino twists his neck to look better over his shoulder. What on Earth is that bastard doing?

In no time, the two pinecones became valiant knights on an adventure in Antonio's hands. The Iberian smiles and frowns and does all sorts of theatrical expressions for himself as he mumbles softly, in his language each pinecone 's dialogue, and often those of pink rocks too. The pinecone knights hop in place as they gather stones by the shore of the big round sea and agree on their daring plans to defeat whatever the little sticks on the floor are meant to be.

Lovino doesn't like this kid. Antonio does not allow Lovino to control him. He doesn't dance around with the Italian's moods, he doesn't respond to any of Lovino's tricks. He also treats him weird. He makes Lovino's chest feel empty and strange. He is far too patient and kind, so he is hiding something for sure, good people do not exist, let alone nations.

Still, one must concede that he can pantomime with garden objects like a pro. The Italian finds himself smiling when Sir Pinecone the Second falls down the fountain cliff for the fifth time with a high pitched cry. Poor Sir Pinecone the Second just couldn't catch a break! Sir Pinecone the First runs to his rescue, mumbling something in the slaughtered latin Antonio's people spoke, very distressed and dramatic. After an enthusiastic answer from his friend, who jumps right up and ready to adventure again, both ride back to the heights of the fountain(Lovino knows they are riding because Antonio is clicking his tongue to make the noise of hooves), just to fall again. Lovino chuckles behind closed lips. He was not the only one fond of the cliff falling scenes. Antonio seems to have gradually abandoned whatever epic plot he had been developing initially in favor of just making the knights endlessly fall down the fountain while giving the funniest nasal cries. Each time, Lovino has to bite his lip to keep his chuckles from getting too loud. He follows with expectation each new climb up to the mountain, waiting for the moment of the new , hilarious fall.

As Sir Pinecone the First falls for the sixth time, after sliding on a magic plake of ice that the evil Visir Al-Manzur had placed there with his evil arts, his usual:

"aaaaa" got interrupted, and the poor man ended up bouncing on invisible rocks all the way down, a little "Ay! Ay! Ouchy!" sounds each time he bounded in an invisible rock. It was just too unexpected, and you never knew where a new rock was going to be, and it was just too funny and unexpected. Lovino's breathy chuckle makes a break for freedom an echoes all through the garden.

As soon as he hears himself, he freezes.

Antonio heard too. He looks at him, his eyes shine as if that was the best thing he could have heard, his mouth tilted in a lopsided smile, still too clever, but still to warm. Lovino wants to run away. But he can't. He just covers his mouth, caught. Then he realizes that the hands on his mouth were technically a confession, so he took them away quickly, feeling the hated heat go up to his face. He looks sharply away, with the deepest scowl he can manage to pull out. He needs to look angry before Antonio has time to laugh at him for wanting to play, or tell him that he can't. Antonio opens his mouth, but the Italian is faster than him.

" I don't even like you, dammit! And your game is stupid! I was not paying attention to Al-Manzur!" but he has been caught big time, so he is not done "You look like an idiot. I bet you are an idiot. I bet your dad doesn't like you and sent you here to play because you can't do anything right!"

The older kid just waits until he is done, fighting to keep the knowing smile off his face. Then takes his turn.

"Do you want to play with me?"

" What?"He just places his head in his hands."D- do you even understand Latin? Did you understood what I said?".

"Yeah, I did" the Spaniard shrugs "But it doesn't answer my question. Do you want to play with me?"

Lovino has to do a double take on this. He has insulted the kid. Twice. Antonio has offered to play with him. He isn't angry. He is just waiting for an answer and smiling warmly at him as if he means it. This is not how humans work!

It is a lie, of course he doesn't mean it. He is probably just following some order from his father to be friends with Rome's grandson and get closer to the Pope. But he looks very convincing!

Very convincing indeed.

He really does look like he means it.

And Lovino really wants him to mean it. For someone to mean it, at least once.

Why does it have to be a lie? Why never ever means it when they say he is okay? As he thinks about it, the Italian feels a black hole growing inside his chest, making him fight hard for air. It isn't a new sensation, and Lovino still doesn't know what it is supposed to mean, but this bastard makes it happen a lot. He keeps teasing him, offering things he won't give, and making him want them.

"Bastard!"

No reaction.

Damn! No reaction.

He is supposed to snap or push him away! Dammit!

His readiness to take whatever abuse the other wanted to dish out was making him feel soft again. His members melt and the hole keeps hurting but in a less cruel way. He was liking feeling soft, and he liked that smile a little, even if made him drop his alertness. That was unacceptable. He was about to panic again when the Spaniard did something repugnant:

"..Please? Back home I never get to play with other kids. I really want you to play with me…"

He says please. He says please for Lovino to stay with him. Nobody had done that. Ever. In his life, he knows, he would have remembered. He knows because he is going to remember this one. Forever. He knows. His heart's beating so hard it will break out of his chest. That should be illegal. Lovino grumbled a lot of curses and complaints and tried to calm his heart and keep his hopes low and safe, but before he knew it, he was sitting by the fountain as far from Antonio as he could, with Sir Pinecone the Second in his hand.

Antonio looked genuinely glad he had changed his mind. That was confusing, but it made him feel warm. The hole he always felt hurt a little less, so Lovino looked at his pinecone feeling suddenly brave. He placed the improvised toy determinedly on the edge of the fountain basin. He had been given a chance. He was going to get it right. Antonio and him were going to have fun, and Antonio was going to be glad he had invited Lovino to play!

The moment he saw the other pinecone hopping towards him, he realized that he has no clue of what he was supposed to do. He freezes. He always freezes, and then he messes up. It is happening again. His eyes widen in a silent scream for help.

The Spaniard smiled at his new playmate and talked to his pinecone with a nasal voice that Lovino found hilarious a minute ago. Now he doesn't like it anymore. There is something expected from him, and he didn't know what it is!

"I just talked to the king!" Antonio exclaimed, making his pinecone hop in place "We need to save the princess from the tower of the evil Visir! We must hurry!"

Lovino didn't move. He can't breathe. He only wanted to play. Why had he even thought he could play? Why had he even though he had the right to have fun? He started to blush.

Antonio gave him all the time he may need, and then some. Antonio was too patient. Antonio was going to regret inviting him. He was regretting it now. He was sure. He was regretting it and he was right because inviting Lovino to play was a stupid idea. But Lovino didn't want it to be a stupid idea! Why did it have to be? Why he always fucked up?Why couldn't he have fun? Why couldn't he have friends? WHy couldn't he do anything?

The Iberian just kept waiting, without pressuring him, Nothing. The Italian just kept blushing more.

"Eh...The tower is at the other side of the big round sea! Which way should we go!?"

Nothing. Lovino was scowling now and squeezing the pinecone so hard in his chubby hand that, if the thing had guts they would have been shot up to the sky a while ago. His blush was getting worse. Antonio got distracted for a moment by how cute he looked, all shy and blushed, but experience told him this wasn't good.

He moved the toy again, giving it one last try, a bit uncomfortable. On his side of things, Lovino had decided it was Antonio's fault for making him want. But the idiot is there still making him want because he is so patient it seems he'd wait forever, and nobody ever waits forever!

"O-Okay! I think I know! Follow me..?" The Iberian tries

The pinecone made his way solo for half a meter. Lovino isn't moving, nor is his pinecone. He looks extremely frustrated now. His eyes look too shiny and red, and he his glaring at Antonio's toy as if it was doing him a personal offense. Antonio abandons the nasal voice.

"Hey, Lovi, you can answer, or you can move the cone. You can also just ask me what to do, that is fine too" Nothing, silence, and deeper scowl, just like a tearless crying face. Antonio let his toy fall into the water and knelt closer, honestly pained by what he sees.

"Hey. Lovi...is everything fine?"

The kid bolted up and gave a couple of angry steps away from him, just to freeze again in complete and utter frustration. He turned his back on the Spaniard. Antonio just sat back up on the edge of the fountain, giving the young kid's back an anguished look. He wants to help. The Italian is visibly distressed; his breathing is far too shallow and far too fast. He just has no idea of how to!

The rest went by just too fast. The Italian turned and gave him the most hateful glare he had seen, and darted towards him like a cannonball. Antonio's reflexes got him out of the way agail, before either their minds could catch up. Lovino ran straight into the fountain, hitting his shin against the stone edge before landing nose first in the shallow basin, his mad dash creating enough force for him to slide on his face for a good distance.

Antonio watched the ridiculous velvet hat floating lonely in the surface. His eyes get stuck there, as if the waving movement of that pointless thing was a metaphor he was failing to catch, during a strange, absurdly ethereal moment of calm. Next he knows, as he turned to ask the italian if he was hurt, a Pinecone flew straight to his face and hit him square in the nose.

He gave a step back, biting back a pained sound as he covered his nose. That was time more than enough for the Italian to jump out of the water and bolt out of the patio like a bat out of hell. When Antonio tilted his head back down, the unpleasant pain nearly subsided, and a couple of red droplets on his finger, he was alone with the cones and the ruined castle of stones and sticks.

Exhausted in every way, Antonio let himself fall on the edge of the fountain again. He didn't even know how to feel about the encounter. All he could pick up disheartenment, and a bitter aftertaste.

He fished his pinecone from the water and picked up Lovino's from the grass. He looked at his former playmates, imagining that they felt as dejected as he did.

* * *

The servants announced dinner and the (prospective) Spanish Nation found himself walking towards the door of the Pontifical dining hall, shaking like an Autumn leaf.

As he walks, he tries to figure out how to best explain to the Greatest Empire Ever Seen that his little grandson has disappeared, and may be gathering flowers in the mountains of Poland, for all Antonio knew.

The result of his meditations? There is no good way to say it.

Antonio gets to the gate of the dining hall and stops, waiting up against the wall. A voice in his head tries to convince him that picking flowers in Poland is, in fact, what he should run to do himself while he still has time.

He breathes deep and stands at attention, back straight and head high. Rome and his father appear soon after, deep in conversation and with the usual flock of old men in rings and dresses chatting all around them. The time has come. The end is near. He braces himself for what might come.

As the adults approach, Aragon catches a glimpse of his son. Standing there, on time, and polite…

Wait.

Antonio looks suspiciously rigid.

Nervous.

Guilt painted all over his face.

Alone.

The look in the old Nation's eyes could have set a forest on fire. Antonio squeezed his eyes tight for a second, heart racing, panic growing.

Change of mind! He was no longer worried about the Greatest Empire Ever Seen! It was his dad he was terrified about now! He was totally fine with explaining to Lord Rome that he had lost his grandkid, if that saved him from explaining it to Aragon. He would do it right now and with a toga on if he has to! Wasn't Rome really into lions? May he please be chained up and fed to the lions in a circus before Aragon gets his hands on him? Please? Or crocodiles! He is not picky!

The small group reaches him. Antonio couldn't breathe. It is mostly guilt, but there is a big part of fear squeezing his lungs too.

"Lord Rome," he bows, his voice a bit more strained than it should be.

"Such a polite young man, Aragon. Let me congratulate you."

"Well, one has to be firm with kids, if one wants good results. Don't you think, Tonio?"

Antonio gulped.

"In general, I don't take kindly to being disappointed. My boy knows that..."

Oh, God.

He was dead.

Worse than dead, he was in trouble with his father.

"...He would never disappoint me lightly. "

Oh dear God and every Saint in heaven or around! Why was he not death? Would not someone be kind enough to strike him down? Please?

" He knows what happens if he does. Right, Tonio?"  
"Y-yeah"

He knew he wasn't supposed to use the Lord's name when in trouble with his parents. Father Torres said it was taking the name of God in vain. But to be fair, Father Torres had never seen Aragon on a bad day!

"Well, certainly it has worked, you got a fine young man here. I hope you two, kids, had fun." Rome smiles warmly. Silence "Where is Lovino?"

...Oh, God…

"I'm here."

All the air in the room rushes into Antonio's lungs at once. South Italy's tiny figure appears from behind a column. His clothes are still wet, and some of the unnecessary ornaments in them were probably ruined. Antonio feels so relieved with what he sees that he could hug the guts out of the kid, but he is the only one. The grown-up population of the palace looks extremely displeased with the state of the kid's clothes. Lovino knows it and tries to hide his shame under cockiness, unconvincingly.

'Why on Earth was he still wet though?' Antonio wonders ' It is July. Even velvet should have dried out in the sun. Where has he been hiding?'

The little child drags his feet near the group, frowning. He pouts, glared down. For a moment it seems he is going to bite back at any adult who dares to say a word about him. When he meets his Grandfather's eyes, and he deflates immediately. His angry scowl poorly hides that he is quickly approaching the verge of tears.

"So. It seems someone has some explaining to do."

Silence.

Lovino opens his mouth, but can't talk. He tenses like Antonio has seen before and fails to speak again. Whether he was a nation of an incarnation of the devil, Antonio couldn't tell for sure, but he could tell the kid was extremely shy. Probably the cohort of strangers listening to what he had done wrong and about to watch him get scolded was not precisely helping.

"You can start with how you ended up in water, and pick it up from there" His grandfather suggests.

The kid blushes and starts blinking suspiciously fast.

"I…" He gets even redder than before, his little nose all wrinkled and his blinking faster.

The poor kid looks terribly embarrassed and… sad? He looks furious, but the miserable type of rage, the aimless one you can't even fight. Just look at that guilty expression. He looks beyond shy, he looks agonized.

Antonio looks at the grown-ups, hoping to take someone's eye and glare some reason into them, with no luck. The adults should not be making a little kid go through this. They must know he is shy. They should ask him in private. This is not okay. He is so red it can't be he also going to get punished, in addition to going through this?

"I…"

The kid's voice tries to pitch up proud and instead does a little squeak.

A tear rolls down his cheek. He sniffed hard and tries to hold the rest, but all he gets is even more water falling from his lashes. Oh, Lord! Antonio can't watch this.

"It was my fault!" He intercedes. Every head in the room turns towards him. Even he feels shy under that scrutiny, but he is bigger and can take it. There is no point in turning back now.

"We were playing in the garden, by the fountain, and I got upset about...something, I don't really know what, and I ...made him fall into the water." Antonio took a breath. The silence in the room was the silence of a grave. His grave. Oh well! Since he was taking the blame, no point in being half-assed about it, middle grounds were never for him. " It was not long ago, so he has not had time to let his clothes dry. That is why he is late too. I think I scared him a little, so he ran until you showed up." At this, Aragon moves from looking at his son to glaring, composed expression but eyes on fire. Lovino looks at the young nation in complete astonishment. His mouth drops open.

"You did what?" Aragon growled, glaring.

Rome glares. The seven cardinals glare. The two bishops glare. The entire room glares. Antonio bites his lips discreetly, his eyes are forced lower, the burn of all the disapproval getting under even his thick skin. As the scolding starts (and boy, how it starts!) his tanned cheeks start accumulating shades of pink.

Lovino's own heart is beating fast just by watching it; he doesn't want to imagine being at the centre of it. He observes as the kid being scolded by, and in front of, every single adult in the room, most of whom he had never seen. All through it, Lovino's little heart was twisting in his chest and doing awfully painful things, pleading him to step up and tell the truth. He didn't though. He just keeps quiet, watching without blinking until only Aragon is left to speak.

Antonio's breath catches so bad when his father puts a hand on his shoulder, it hurts Lovino just to see it. The Italian sees Antonio bite both his lips, eyes falling all the way to the floor for the first time.

"We will talk about this later." The man says in his barely comprehensible language. Antonio shivers and closes his eyes for a moment as his father walks away.

The Italian was too ashamed of himself to even move and follow the adults, even though the last thing he wanted was to be left alone with Antonio now. But he doesn't manage to move on time. Aragon leaves. Lovino finds himself alone with the other and looks at his shoes in intense hope that will make him invisible. His heart is doing more painful things of a different variety, pushing his ribs out and trying to swell with… warmth? Guilt? His sense of justice is nagging at him, telling him how much of a pile of garbage he was, and his common sense was screaming how furious the Iberian should be now, and how much he needed to run. He would probably be furious! He would sell him as a slave! Ship him off to an island full of cannibals! Before he notices it, Antonio is close to him and closing in. It's too late to run from his gross stilt-legs, so he just cowers and covers his head, hoping whatever he will be dished out will end soon.

The blow does not come through. Nor the yelling.

After minutes of waiting, he dares to crack an eye open and see what is going on. Antonio is by him, waiting, with Lovino's lost hat extended towards him.

"You forgot it. I put it in the sun. It is almost dry."

* * *

He took the hat, at a loss of words. They followed the adults in awkward silence.

Lovino did not get a single dirty look from the Spaniard all through dinner and afterwards, Aragon and his son retired early while Lovino's conscience tried to kill him.A little past midnight, the tiny Italian sneaked out of his room and walked the silent corridors in darkness. It was easy. He knew the place by heart, and the building was deep in sleep. Not like anyone would be anywhere near his room anyway. Not usually, but certainly not tonight.

He may or may not have had an epic tantrum in the kitchens that evening. It might have been related to feeling too confused, and too guilty, and in general too much! It might have been just because the day had been too long and he felt worthless and made fun of by everyone. The yelling should probably have been aimed at the Spaniard for some reason he couldn't place, but a servant may have set him off before that. There might have been a lot of yelling, hitting and crying. A spyglass might or might not have been thrown and shattered against a wall and stepped on rapidly until it was nothing left of it. Not an important detail.

The important part is that he felt completely drained afterwards, but the questions had not left him. 'Why had the stranger taken the blame?''Why had he brought his hat back?''Why hadn't him reproached Lovino a thing?' 'What type of nation does that?' Unbothered, like big stones in the fireplace of his mind, the question stayed heavy and inert both among the raging fire of anger or in his grey and ashy exhaustion. They just kept on being there, existing, not planning to go anywhere or do anything but be heavy and be visible every time he closed his eyes. Lovino had tried to carbonize them with rage all through the evening, but it didn't work. Now he has almost no fire left, just sparks. He can't sleep, he can't stop noticing them, and he feels drained enough to be bold. Maybe, if he asks them, the heavy questions will go away once he asks them, and he will feel oriented again.

After almost an hour standing in front of the door of his guest's room, his barely smouldering fire crackling weakly in embarrassment and in the anger that came from feeling that way, he dared touch the door handle. He pushed the door open. The little sparks of bitterness he had managed to spur to life carefully treasured in his heart. He would need them to be capable of waking the sleeping kid just to antagonize him. But when he steps into the room, he finds the bed empty, untouched. Antonio is standing in front of the window, showered in the moonlight, eyes on the sky.

He is still wearing his day pants and white shirt. Lovino looks at his nightgown and frowns, pulling it a bit as if it was the clothing's fault that he found himself nearly indecent while Antonio had the advantage of pants. The Iberian looked peaceful, happy in the summer breeze, a little-lopsided smile illuminated his face like a personal half moon. Why was he happy? he had no right to be happy! What the hell had he had that day to be happy about? He had gotten in trouble with the adults, and been yelled at, and bene hit with a pinecone and-

Suddenly, the Italian managed to identify one of the emotions that had been torturing him all day. Envy. He was jealous of the bastard's peace of heart. He was jealous to the core of that permanent smile, of all the attention, of that way in which he just seemed to enjoy being alive, in the love he received from his father and from-

M-Maybe coming here had not been such a good idea. Maybe he wasn't that interested in getting any answers after all. A stone in the fireplace never killed anyone nor was it ever nearly this started a tactical retreat, eyes on the Hispanic just in case he had been saving his revenge for the cover of night. But as he took his first step backwards, he found his foot tangled in idiot's stupid boots! They snaked around his ankles causing him to stumble around like a drunk chicken and squeak mortifyingly as he tumbled to the ground like a sack of, particularly ungraceful garbanzo beans.

"Damnit!"

Antonio turned to look, his reverent trance not strong enough to hold against such a display of stealth. Lovino was confronted with those clean eyes heads on, not a trace of resentment or anger, just a bit of melancholy. His world turned upside down again because that level of kindness made no bloody sense. And still, it was right in front of him, written in full color.

He gets dizzy. He forgets how to speak. He even forgets how to breathe.

"Oh. Hi Lovi... What are you doing here?"

"W-w-w-w-w-wh"

"Are you okay?"

"Why aren't you mad?!" He blurted, suddenly terrified. A question, an insult, a plea. Lovino knew that it was all three. This made no sense! Nothing about that day did!

* * *

Meanwhile, international politics…

From: The Papal States

To the Christian Nations of Europe.

 _Brothers:_

 _Through the Authority granted to Him by God, we must inform you that, after deep deliberation and assistance of the wisest and holiest men in the empire, as well as of the Lord above and his Holy Spirit, we have determined that only the Roman rite of mass and corpus of tradition is consistent with his teachings and his will._

 _Therefore, all other heretic rites must be abandoned. This is specially addressed to Byzantine of the East._

 _As much as it pains me, those nations practising heretic rites who refuse to mend their ways are declared heretic and treated as such by the sons of the Church. Their claims of land are invalid, pacts with them and oaths to their kings may be freely broken, and attack on them becomes justified as it is on infidels._

 _Blessings,_

 _The Papal State._

 _..._

From: The Byzantine Empire

To The Papal States

 _So, it has come to this;_

 _I won't lie, it is a step I was about to give myself. Let me tell you, old man, I tried to be patient with your obstinate refusal about handing me South Italy and your petty commercial war, in honour to the mentor you once were to me, but getting France and HRE to send me those northern thugs crossed the line. Now that our war is no longer covert get ready._

 _You are over, Rome. You have only survived this long because you were subordinated to me. Do you even think you can survive without my protection? You don't even have an army worth that name, and Austria and France aren't stupid enough to let you ever gather enough soldiers to create one. They will play your game only until they are done sizing each other. The moment one gets the upper hand you will be over. And let me tell you, France is pretty close of doing so. Actually, I think I will help him._

 _Regards,_

 _The Byzantine Empire, the only true Roman Empire of this day._

* * *

 _A candle loses nothing by lighting another candle.(Italian Proverb)_


	5. Who is Who (July 1054)

I had no beta for this chapter, I hope it isn't too bad :(  
If you notice something please let me know so I can change it

* * *

 _"A good listener needs few words" (Spanish Proverb)_

 **_July 1054_ **

**_Midnight partners_ **

_..._

 _...Lovino was confronted with those eyes head on, in them was not a trace of resentment or anger, just a bit of melancholy. Once again, his world flipped upside down because that level of kindness made no bloody sense, and yet, it was right in front of him, live and in living color. He felt himself swallow as he tried frantically to remember how to breathe, then the vision spoke._

 _"Oh. Hi Lovi. What are you doing here?"_

 _Nonchalant and calm. Of course. It just didn't; he couldn't..._

 _"Why aren't you mad?!" Lovino blurted, suddenly terrified. A question, an insult, a plea. Lovino knew that it was all three. It made no sense! Nothing about that day did!_

"Why would I be?"...

"D-Don't play with me. You know why!"

"Eh...Not really," Antonio answered, perplexed honesty in his eyes.

Lovino's mouth opened to answer, and his mind whirred with images and memories of all the times he had acted like enough a little shit that this idiot should hate him already. But he didn't. Lovino's face heated up immediately as the evidence of how much he had to be ashamed of marched through his memory in technicolour. He suddenly felt like a dirty stain on the carpet, angry and rotten to the core.

"If you don't know, then I'm not fucking going to tell you!" he barked, embarrassed "And didn't your mom teach you to keep your shit out of the way?"

Antonio chuckled

"No. She was too busy teaching me how to knock on doors."

"You, shit-eating bastard!"Came out as a defensive reflex, followed by another long string of profanities that sounded lame to his ears. The more he yelled, the more tired and pathetic that he felt. None of those insults managed to give him the feeling of having the upper hand, let alone with the other kid's happy smile still in place and brow lifted. Eventually, Lovino gave up, and bit his lips, expecting to be asked to leave, or thrown out of the room. He wasn't. Antonio seemed too at peace with the world, to above him to find his insults anything but funny. Lovino felt more humiliated by that amiability than by anything the other could have done. The tips of his ears burned madly, his fists clenched and the little energy he had managed to muster was leaving him fast.

"Anything else?"

"Do you want me to leave?" He mumbled, trying to finish with his defeat as soon as possible.

"I don't mind either way. Do you want t leave?"

Lovino would glare, but what was the point? This bastard was immune to everything. Lovino was jealous of him. So god damned jealous. Or he would be, once he got energy for it again. Defeated he hopped on the empty bed and waited for the embarrassing situation to solve itself magically. Unsurprisingly, it didn't.

" I threw a cone at you." he finally mumbles "Hard."

"Oh! Mad about that!"

'Yeah, that' Lovino thought, bitterly. The Spaniard just shrugged his shoulders in a good mood.

"That's done. Don't worry about it."

"What kind of answer is that?!"

"What kind of answer did you want me to give?"

"A normal one!"

"Normal for whom?" 'Jesus Christ and Madonna' Lovino palmed his face. He didn't know if the other kid was teasing him or being serious, but he had the terrible feeling that he was doing both " What do you want me to do about it?"

"Be mad dammit! Like normal people!" The bastard shrugs. Again! He has the nerve to do it again!

"My mom says that only those with no real problems can afford to get mad."

Lovino's face heated up. What did that make Lovino then? His fists were closing, failing at finding anything to squeeze. Arrogant brat! He pressed his lips, hoping to get his mind to work through the pressure but it didn't work out. He was sure that Antonio was laughing at him like crazy. Yes. He must be about to burst at any point now. Lovino didn't want to see it. Why had he come?

Semi-comfortable silence settled over then, which Lovino knew would be comfortable if not for his own racing heart as Antonio's attention had drifted back to the brushstroke of stars that cut the skies in two.

"Why did you take the blame?" He heard his voice ask. Antonio turned to face him again.

"Why did you let me do it?" he asked. Lovino pursed his lips and fisted his nightgown. It was a strange question with an answer too embarrassing to say. The Spaniard sighed and smiled warmly at him "You looked scared." The bastard clarified, with that protective tone that made Lovino sick, shamelessly stating what Lovino had refused to admit "It looked as if you couldn't take what was coming. I could, so I did. It seemed fair."

"That's stupid!" he barked, heart racing.

"I'm stupid, then."Antonio shrugged, profoundly unconcerned.

Silence fell over them again, and this time the Italian was too exhausted even to stay uncomfortable as the seconds slid by."I miss my mom." Antonio stated out of nowhere, looking at the sky" And my uncle. We live at the end of that line, in my grandpa's house. I haven't seen her in a very long time."Lovino looked up in surprise. He was about to say that it was a stupid reason to be sad. He didn't have a mom at all and was not moping around about it. However, something in Antonio's eyes made him bite his tongue. His stomach was twisting again, weird winged things travelling inside it. He didn't know what to say. He was not used to receiving confessions. He just froze. Not doing anything is better than doing something wrong, right? _Not really_ , his voice whispered in his head. _Shut up!_ He murmured back.

"Go see her then" he blurted, regretting the salty tone almost immediately. Nobody confided things to him dammit! How was he supposed to know what to do? The Spaniard didn't seem to mind though. The Italian found himself thankful for that.

"I can't. I'm with my dad now. And that's okay! It's just… I-Sometimes I feel like he doesn't want me to see mom again".

"Why wouldn't he?

"I- I don't know. Maybe I imagine things, but he's been acting strangely since his independence. Maybe he wants me to learn about Rome but-I've been far from home too long, and I'm afraid my family will start fighting again if I'm not back soon. Whenever I´m away, they fight".

"Maybe that's what he wants?" Lovino found himself blurting out again. That's what any nation worth their salt would think, or one of the reasons. He expected Antonio to tell him to go to hell. Lovino might not have a family, but he understood that families stay together and insulting someone's father is a surefire way of getting on somebody's bad side. However, Antonio just pressed his lips together and looked back out the window, and the Italian realized with horror that he had just said what the other had been thinking. Feeling embarrassed as this was clearly not what Antonio had wanted to hear, he hastily tried to correct himself. "Or maybe not! Maybe he just doesn't want you to go back because-because he doesn't like you. Maybe he will bring Normans to you. That's what they do here when they don't like a kid."

"What?"

"Nothing!" The Italian mumbled hurriedly "W-why do you think they might be fighting?"

"I- I feel a bit weaker. It may be the drought though. It-It is bad you know? It has been for a very long time, and I don't know what to do, because I can't fight the sky. And it is not going away. My Muslim friends say they have it too, and their cousins. They say- they say some of their people in Africa are starting to lose it…" the Spanish voice trailed low and low until it ended in a whisper that didn't remember who it was addressed to "...but I don't know what they mean by that. I only know that something bad is coming".

Lovino pursed his lips and kicked the boot he'd tripped over earlier, still lying next to him. If those were the things the Spanish had to deal with on a daily basis no wonder he couldn't care less about a little brat of a borderless nation throwing a tantrum around him, and he was complaining about a little tiny Norman burn. Okay, it burned like hell, but his people were not hungry, and he hadn't had to worry about a serious drought in decades.

"I haven't had a drought in forever. The climate is very nice in this age. My Grandpa says so"

"Not for us. It is too warm."

"Maybe you have done something bad?" He suggests. The explanation feels weak the second he looks at the kid's innocent face, but really, what other reason can there be for a drought?

"Yeah...We did. But I thought we already got the Moors for that"

Lovino didn't know what to say; he didn't even like what he had already said. Thank God, Antonio did not insist and went back to his introspective silence and staring at his hands. Lovino took the chance to lift his nightgown a little to see the burn in Palermo that extended across his thigh. Before he knew it, a Spaniard with wide eyes had seemingly teleported next to him. The Italian covered himself with a yelp and jumped back. The other kid snatched him before he could go anywhere

"Hey, you bastard! What are y-?"

"Shh…Don't worry. I'm used to this things. I help my Uncle with Viking Burns all the time. Just let me see."

"No!" The other yelled far too loud, stretching the fabric over his thigh so furiously it began to rip. The furious hiss of tearing cloth stunned both of them into silence. Lovino crawled against the opposite wall and hid both legs under the skirt of his nightgown, cradling his legs as if he was escaping a beast.

Antonio scratched the back of his head, confused and sorry for whatever he had done to scare the kid so much. The child's face was burning, and he refused to look at him. What was he supposed to do?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" what had he done again? "I only wanted to help out. Really." The kid got redder and angrier-looking, glaring sidelong at the wall and creating a tense silence between them that was about to snap at any point.

And it did snap, but not in the way Antonio was expecting.

"I'll tell if you tell first," the kid demanded. Antonio was confused, and it must have shown on his face because the little kid on the floor rolled his eyes and huffed. "What did your father do?" he clarified. Antonio was about to answer that he had no clue of what they were talking about but Lovino almost fixed him with a glare that could freeze hell over

"Eh? No way!" Antonio was about to protest. No way on Earth he was accepting that deal! He stared right back at Lovino's excellent attempt at intimidating glare with a terrifying one of his own, one that got the Italian to step back. He was ready to tell the kid to go to hell in a handbasket and enjoy his burns all alone if he so pleased. But he couldn't. He really wanted to! But he just could not. That attempt at a glare in front of him just crumbled down at the smallest scrutiny, leaving just a fearful, ashamed gaze trying to cover itself just like Lovino was trying to hide behind the nightgown until he disappeared.

"What has you so ashamed? It's not your fault that you got Normans. You need a better army."

"...I have no army."

" You are kidding." Antonio's eyes went wide and incredulous. Lovino shook his head and hid it behind his knees"every nation has an army" another shook of the head "But then who is fighting all over you?"

"Local lords. Princes. Private armies. I have no army. Nobody cares." Antonio opened his mouth to reply but ended up pressing his lips together and puffing his cheeks. He didn't want to answer Lovino's question! If Lovino didn't want help with his Viking burns it is his problem! Look if Antonio cares! There is no way he is going to do something he feels embarrassed about, just to persuade the other kid to _allow him the privilege_ of helping him!

No way!

But the little, stupid, stubborn kid looked so lonely and in pain...

It was cruel to let him suffer like this! Even if it was by his own will. Little kids don't know what is best for them, right? So it was Antonio's responsibility to help Lovino.

Oh, Sweet Mary! He couldn't be falling for this twice in a day, could he?

"Okay," He grumbled, extremely mad at himself, boy he felt like an idiot! "But I won't tell you everything! And you won't say anything about it. Okay."

It was not a question. Lovino glared, to make it clear that he did not like accepting orders, but nodded behind his knees. The glare had the opposite effect than expected on the Hispanic, and only softened Antonio's heart for the kid even more. Once he had seen through the mask, all Antonio could it's in those glared was the pain behind them. They steered his protective instincts even more. He cursed mentally. Lovino leaned forward, ready to listen to what had happened. He really wanted to know what other people told their kids when they messed up. Maybe they said to them that they were a failure and would be better if they were not born. Perhaps it was a reasonable thing to hear. Maybe people here loved him deep down, and those were just normal things to say to misbehaving kids.

Antonio didn't say anything. He held his breath, turned, made quick work of his buttons, and bared his back for the other to see.

Lovino's mouth dropped open. Skin and muscles were swollen and covered with a mat of scarlet lines thick like a belt. The red lines were made of endless scarlet dots that turned purple and messy, like a myriad of reds milky ways crossing each other on Antonio's body, traced in red lacerations and a dark purple overflow. Lovino took both hands to cover his mouth as he stared at the purple edges, the carefully cleaned tears, and the patches over the shoulder blades that looked so much like burns he couldn't bear the sight of them. He tried to count, but they were many times all his fingers, and he couldn't take his fingers away from his mouth anyway. The bloody mess adorned the entire back and descended to disappear beyond the line of Antonio's pants. The Italian face heated up to the boiling point. Now he understood why Antonio had been standing all the time. Or why he had not bothered to undress and get into bed. There was no way he would be able to sleep with the pain of-of that!

"H-How many-?"

"I said you couldn't say anything about it." The Spaniard cut in curtly as he pulled the shirt back over his shoulders and proceeded to close it quickly. His face was angry, irritated at the impertinence, but his cheekbones were colored red. "Now let me help you with that."

Antonio pulled Lovino's arm a bit too aggressively and kneeled to examine the wounds. Lovino didn't mind the sudden roughness and allowed him to manipulate his limbs at will. The nine-year-old might look angry at him, but Lovino recognized shame when he saw it. He understood how it felt and where it came from. Actually, for the first time since they met Lovino felt like he understood the Spaniard perfectly.

Lovino wanted to tell him that he didn't deserve the beating, which a very bad beating didn't mean that he was a naughty child, but he couldn't find the words.

As he allowed Antonio to inspect hi burns, he felt eaten alive by the same question yet again: ' Why isn't he mad?'

"Tell me if it hurts." The kid said softly as he pulled a dagger from under his bed and pressed the flat of the blade against the little circles of burned skin " I'm sorry, I don't have anything else cold around."

"It's okay" Lovino mumbled.

Antonio pushed Lovino carefully towards the centre of the bed. he pressed the flat of his dagger's blade against the red and green trails of little blisters to alleviate the pain with the cold of steel. It worked. Lovino relaxed and almost hummed in relief as the other kid continued draining the heat fo burning buildings and crops from his tortured back. He wondered, vaguely, why nobody had bothered to do so earlier if it was so simple, but then he remembered that nobody cared enought, quite probably. The pain subsided under the cold, and the Iberian was very careful with his movements. Despite feeling safe in his care, Lovino's heart was beating faster instead of relaxing. How did that make sense?  
Too tired to wonder about his stupid organ's life choices, or about what type of child had more weapons in his guest room than an entire Roman legion, Lovino allowed himself to drift pleasantly between wakefulness and vigil, processing at least the events of the day: The spyglass, the cones, his own yelling, the bearded dude that looked like France turned ugly, the big big beautiful green eyes... they all marched in front of his eyes but this time, in this warm and safe atmosphere that had magically fallen over the room, he could process them without guilt. He snuggled the pillow without noticing, and crawled a little bit closer to Antonio, looking at the boy's relaxed expression as he worked to alleviate his wounds. Western Barbarians weren't that bad, after all. They were cocky and weird, but they were pretty, and warm, and kind of-maybe- made the black hole in his chest hurt a little less.

As the moon travelled the night sky towards her morning quarters, Antonio found himself lying by the Italian on his bed. , and at some point, he had found himself on one side of the kid, in a precariously peaceful state. Lovino didn't seem in the mood to leave, the tiredness of the day finally getting to him, and the Spaniard didn't feel like disrupting him. He wasn't going to get much sleep anyway, so why not allow the kid to sleep there? Besides, Lovino looked kind of sweet, all sleepy and tame like this.

"I don't like your dad." Lovino declared out of the blue, just when Antonio was about to fall asleep. Antonio smiled sweetly at him. Lovino didn't see it, but he could feel the warmth on his skin.

"Why not?"

"He is mean. He hurt you." the kid declared. He had tried to hurt Antonio himself, true, but he was mean and that was already established. it wasn't news to anyone.

"I deserved it"

"No" The Italian informed him. Antonio chuckled softly

"He thought I did something very bad. And your grandpa thought so too, so it is fine."

"No!"

"Yes. I needed to learn."

"No." Another chuckle from Antonio. So stubborn! But it was kind of cute. "And your dad is mean."

"He only did it because he loves me."

"No." Lovino determined after some thinking, rubbing his face against the pillow

"Yes. He hit me, but he also gave me a million kisses afterwards and treated my wounds, and told me that he loved me and I was forgiven," Antonio explained, playing with the kid's hair. He expected some grumbling no, but he got silence "That is what people do when they love you…" Antonio trailed off, trying to comfort the poor kid he had so unnecessarily upset with distracted caresses to his hair "You know, I once wasn't sure and asked Father Torres if what he did was okay and he said that as long as I deserved it and if I did something very bad it is. He told me that sometimes he really feels like whipping his son too. His son is a bit of a dick, but I don't think that was his point." Silence. Antonio had a sudden suspicion that made him feel cold in the pit of his stomach "Lovi...Do you have anyone that gives you a million kisses?"

Silence.

Deep, terrible silence and a shadow on the kid's sleepy face that broke the Spaniard's heart. He squeezed the kid almost by instinct and gave him a sonorous kiss on top of the head. The child grew rigid in his arms but didn't struggle. He looked more confused than anything.

"Do you want me to let go, Lovi?" The kid didn't answer. Antonio understood, and his heart broke a little more. On impulse, he bowed to take the hugging and to kiss task on himself immediately. Nobody ever should have to go through life without those. "You are kind of cute, you know? ".

Maybe he could take Lovino home? He didn't seem all that happy here.

* * *

Antonio bit his lip and tried not to whimper as he sat down painfully at the grand breakfast table. He put his hands together with the rest of the guests and pretended to join in the string of unfamiliar prayers. He tried to focus on prayer as any praise to God is sacred, but he soon found himself eying a basket of sweet bread across the table. As soon as the final Amens began to ring out, he launched across the table and shoveled as many of the sweet buns onto his plate as he could before anyone could move them. This was a diplomatic event so Antonio was only one of the many foreigners seated at the table. In fact, the Papal State was the only native there. As a child, Antonio's only job here was to be as close as invisible as humanly possible. The stuffed mouth helped, but the active inaction was still not easy! Theology seemed to be the main topic of conversation, and Antonio really loved the subject. He talked about it a lot with his Muslim friends and they all seemed to have very cool ideas! But he wasn't allowed to intervene in adult's conversations. He pouted and comforted himself with more bread and meat. Over his head, the wild variety of commensals chatted about when Rome would get a new boss after the suspicious death of the last one, when would the Holy Roman Emperor have the decency to die, and whether priests should be having wives and kids or not. Antonio happened to have very strong opinions about that. Father Torres was always way nicer when his lady friend was in the house! Especially in the mornings. He gave Antonio very light penances those days and wasn't nearly as cranky. Also, Ana was a very nice woman! She always gave Antonio bread with honey when he visited them, even if Father Torres protested because he wanted all the honey for himself.

"Oh, please! Germans exaggerate everything! They are servants of Christ, not Christ himself!

"Christ never married!

"Well, he also walked on water, and we do not expect poor priests to do that, do we?"

"Without a good example, the population will become lusty."

"As far as I'm concerned, it is better for the population to engage in loving activities than on gambling and drinking."

"Yeah, it is a healthy pastime." The other priest became red in the face as he racked his brains for another counter-argument

Antonio rolled his eyes and kept his silence, waiting.

"You seem to forget that in the Sodom passage, when the Angels come to ask for settling, God finds it so outraging that..." he finally concluded, Antonio found himself opening his mouth to correct the German guy, but his father's glare muted him immediately.

"But that's not the point of the story," Antonio whispered angrily to Aragon, "the point is that they were guests...hospitality is important for desert people." His father nodded, showing that he both agreed and at the same time, did not give a fuck.

"If you say that, you will sound like a moor, Tonio."

"But the people who wrote it were moors" the boy complained.

"Yes, but correcting northern idiots is not worth spoiling things with Rome, Tonio. You already look-" Aragon cut himself off in a hurry and took a deep breath, "just nod, okay?"

The polite atmosphere of the room was shattered by a grotesque dragging sound that pierced right the ears. The guests tried to be polite and ignore the noise, but the sound could not be overlooked. It was loud, it drowned everyone's words and restarted every time the guests thought they had gotten rid of it. It sounded like heavy wood being dragged over tiles by someone who was bad at physical work. Antonio glanced at Rome, looking for a clue of what was going on, but the former Empire looked as confused as everyone else. Then, the door to the dining hall was kicked open, and a huge, wooden chair made its noisy, hideous way towards the tables. The chair got stuck in every single crack between the tiles. From behind the moving chair, a curl of hair bounced up and down. Antonio recognized the force powering that disaster. Rome did too and his eyes began to blaze.

Whether Rome was too furious to say anything or just hoping for a sudden epiphany to fall over his grandson and let him know how unwelcome he was, Antonio didn't know. He only knew that the room had gone silent now, amplifying the squeaking sounds. The guests didn't even try to restart conversations anymore.

Antonio looked at his father, who put a hand on his shoulder, in a loving, but clear sign of 'get yourself involved in this, and you are dead'. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Lovino reached the edge of the carpet. The object stopped, no longer sliding. He pushed the chair with the shoulder, failed to move it, and tried again harder. On the third attempt, he managed to get the immense piece of furniture to tip over itself and fall down with the thundering of a falling empire, revealing himself to the hall.

The kid blushed a little but frowned stubbornly. He ignored everyone's murderous gaze, including Rome, and made a very dignified way towards the table. Towards Antonio's spot on the table to be exact. Antonio's stomach dropped. He had a very bad feeling about this.

Lovino glared at him, going on his tiptoes to do so, accusing him of something unspoken. Then shook his head, as if he forgave Antonio because he was hopeless anyway. Antonio could feel his father's eyes burning his neck and was too terrified to move.

"Move!" The child ordered, pushing him aside in his bench. Antonio looked at his father desperately, with no clue of what to do. Rome stood on his chair and was about to yell something. The aura around him was so terrifying that Antonio's mind blanked.

"It is okay!" he heard himself intervening before he was even aware of what he was doing. As it turned out, his default reaction to fear was to protect brats with no common sense. "I-I don't mind. He can stay. I'll watch over him while we eat-uh… please?." He had already decided that if he got a bad reaction from Rome, he was pushing the brat out of the bench for sure. But God was on his side that evening. Rome just watched them with an intense, murderous look for a couple of seconds, then, understanding that any attempt to remove Lovino would end up in a tantrum and a much more embarrassing situation for him as a host, nodded and thanked Antonio. Antonio let out a breath, his arms going limp while the brat by him kept digging in his ribs with an elbow to demand even more room. Aragon glanced at him, halfway between threatening and curious.

"I hope you know what you are doing, Tonio" Aragon murmured, but Lovino was already eating half of Antonio's food without even looking at him. Antonio felt like smashing his head against the plate.

"Yeah, Ioshalâ" he mumbled.

The kid was as bad as anyone expected, if not worse. The second Antonio looked away he started grabbing food from everyone else's plate, by hand or by fork. He grabbed plates without offering to others, he elbowed and kicked and almost walked on the table to get at what he wanted. He was noisy as all hell and threw mini-tantrums, demanding others to serve him. Still, to everyone's surprise, Antonio was able to keep him from completely overturning the table. For some mysterious reason, the kid listened to the Spaniard's gentle scolding. He stopped his demands and kicking retrieved stolen bread, and stayed on his chair. He even stopped a wrestling competition he had started with a German while trying to pry a piece of chicken from the man's mouth. Aragon was fascinated by the spectacle and, if believing in witchcraft wasn't illegal in his land, he would have considered that his son was a wizard.

Given his eating speed, Lovino was satiated quickly. He cleaned his mouth with a diplomat's cape while the Iberian was not looking, burped shamelessly, and jumped off the bench. He grabbed a fistfull of Antonio's shirt and started pulling to drag him away from the table. Antonio, of course, did not move. He sighed. He was running a little low on patience, but tried to keep his voice friendly.

"I can't leave until everyone is done, Lovi"Lovino frowned and stomped on the bench. Antonio shook his head again.

Lovino tried stomping with both feet on the bench. Antonio shook his head again. The Italian looked puzzled. That always worked to get what he wanted. He tried hopping in place while he made angry noises and cursed. That was infalible! Or so he thought, but Antonio just looking a little annoyed, shook his head, and said that he would get in trouble if he left now. That last argument did it. Lovino didn't want the other kid to get in trouble, but that didn't help him get what he wanted either! He dropped himself on the bench again, arms crossed in indignation. After playing with the food on Antonio's plate and nibbling on various items, he stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Everyone looked at each other in uncomfortable silence, disgusted at such a display of...of whatever that creature was. Rome dropped his forehead on his hand. Only Antonio was left smiling, amused laughter poorly locked behind closed lips.

"What is so funny?" Aragon questioned. The kid smiled and pulled up the half apple the kid had left, or more like thrown, on his plate before storming out. Antonio's half of the dish was filled with food the Iberian had not had time to eat due to babysitting duties, but Lovino's half was clean.

"He gave me the biggest half of the apple. He gave me the big half of everything he got" he explained, amused.

Aragon stared at him as if he had just grown a second head. Antonio chuckled at his dad confusion and looked at the half apple.

" I think he was worried I wouldn't have enough time to grab food for myself. He is kind of cute, you know? In his own way".

The fond smile on the Iberian's lips didn't last long. Less than three minutes later, and Antonio already regretted his thoughts as the sound of shattering glass echoed through the palace's halls.

"CRASSSHHH!"

Silence covered the room, entirely. Everyone's eyes flew to Antonio, Rome's included. He felt a sudden desire to being a bit more invisible. Hesitantly, he looked at his father, who made a serious movement of his head. Right. Antonio was meant to become friends with that kid.

"I'll...go check on him? "He offered, out of social pressure. Nobody made the slightest attempt at dissuading him. He followed the noise, feet dragging. Grown-ups could be such lazy asses sometimes!

When Antonio went in the assigned mission to figure out what had happened, he found the kid clenching in front of the broken window, hanging something in his fists. As soon as he saw Antonio, he glared at him, as if everything was his fault, and charged heads first. Antonio sidestepped with a furrowed brow. Lovino passed right through him like a bull through a cape, stopped in his tracks, and tried again. And again. Antonio's patience was starting to drain fast. When the kid tried to grab his clothes to kick him in the shin, Antonio decided that he was done. Lovino realized that he had crossed a line a little too late. He wasn't even given time to fear.

* * *

 _"Patience is the companion of wisdom"-Saint Agustine(Roman Cleric)_

* * *

I hope that you liked it! And that the chapters aren't too long:(

Based on:  
-General Aragonese policy at the time, of course-A fairly sex-positive view at the time (the end of it is near)  
* Antonio's interpretation on the chapter of Sodom as making a point about how important it is to treat guests properly, and not about gay sex, is a registered interpretation by Musil scholars at the time.  
* Ioshalâ: Let's pray for it  
Sources: Mostly the same as before, but I got a bit fromThe Church in the Early Middle Ages, by G.R. Evans


	6. The Golden Bull (July 1054)

The Golden Bull 

* * *

_You will fall in love with whomever makes you laugh ( Spanish proverb)._

* * *

 _When Antonio went in the assigned mission to figure out what had happened, he found the kid clenching in front of the broken window, hanging something in his fists. As soon as he saw Antonio, he glared at him, as if everything was his fault, and charged head first. Antonio sidestepped with a furrowed brow. Lovino passed right by him like a bull through a cape, stopped in his tracks, and tried again. And again. Antonio's patience was starting to drain fast. When the kid tried to grab his clothes to kick him in the shin, Antonio decided that he was done. Lovino realized that he had crossed a line a little too late. He wasn't even given time to fear._

Lovino felt something catch his wrist middair. Then a pull to his arm that jerked his forth so fast and unexpectedly that the lost his balance. The next thing he knew the floor was floating over his head, his hair flying up towards it, and the Spaniard's hands gripping both his ankles firmly, arms stretched out to keep Lovino's little fists away from his body. The bastard had the nerve to look bored about the whole ordeal.

"You need to calm down before we can talk" The thick, terribly accented latin stated, leaving no room for argument.

Of course, the Italian was not taking it. He thrashed and kicked in the air uselessly, a colourful daisy chain of expletives followed. Lovino was too enraged to even notice how much of a waste all his verbal creativity was. The only thing he got from his outburst was a few shakes up and down, making his voice wobble and break in a way that the damn Spaniard seemed to find really funny.

Lovino was beyond furious. He was used to getting away with anything, and suddenly... he couldn't! He felt lost, and frustrated, but even more he felt hurt! Antonio had been kind to him, and made him feel weird inside, and gave him the impulse to reciprocate. And he had tried to! And then...Then!

"Stop it! You started it!" he kept screaming. Somewhere in between his exhausting kicking and putting an act Lovino wondered about how the Spaniard could hold him in the air with arms stretched and without even shaking. How strong _was_ this guy? More importantly, how many pieces could Antonio have ripped him into yesterday for throwing that pinecone at him, if he had chosen to do so?

The events of the previous day were suddenly set into a new light. Lovino finally stayed still, halfway between panic and admiration, staring at the other child with wide eyes. Antonio glanced back, and smiled with a nod once the little kid was no longer trashing. He set him back on the flor, carefully, and gave a step back to allow him some space.

Once free, Lovino pulled away against the wall and curled up, using his own knees as a shield. He knew he was in trouble now. No one in their right mind would just take that kind of disrespect from a younger boy and just let it go. Lovino certainly wouldn't. He stiffened his whole body and braced himself for the kick to the ribs he was surely about to receive. He stayed that way until his legs began to cramp and his eyes began to sting with the effort of shutting them. But nothing came. Eventually, he peeked out from behind his knees to see Antonio sitting cross legged in front of him, leaning over to try and peek behind Lovino's defenses.

"You're ok right?" He asked with a small, comforting smile.

"It's your fault." he informed from behind his knees. The Spaniard raised an eyebrow.

"Hm. I'm pretty sure it wasn't."

"I gave you food and you were mean to me!"

"What makes you say that?"

"You didn't want to play with me!"

"I couldn't," The Spaniard corrected, after some seconds of incredulity.

"So? It made me feel bad all the same. " Lovino mumbled, resentful. Antonio tilted his head and narrowed his eyes slightly. That was why? Really? Boy, he hated when people wanted him to read their minds. It was against his culture, and it was dumb. But he found himself making yet another exception for this boy. The tantrum was because he felt bad…because he had been denied something? Well, he had tried to accept Antonio's _no_ at least, for the whole five seconds or so.

"How old are you?" he blurted out without thinking, "Um, uh, physically, as a-a, human, I mean." It was an actual question. Lovino just curled tighter against himself and shrugged, looking unsure about how to take the question.

"Seven. Or so. I think"

Seven. Antonio tried to think back at his own seven human years. He had running hunched on the battlefield, cutting the ligaments of enemy horses with a dagger. He had some vague sense of that not being a totally reasonable demand to make on a seven year old, but still was pretty sure a seven year old could handle frustrationssuch as being asked to wait before playing.

He examined Lovino slower. He seemed normal enough, not a changeling or someone who had fallen on his head at birth, what was wrong with him?

"Has anybody told you before that you can't just hit people?" He protested, almost expecting the kid to say no.  
The kid shrug his shoulders.  
Antonio froze. He realized that he hadn´t been fully ready to hear a no from the kid, or anything close to it.  
The Italian pursed his lips, closing into a defensive pose, red faced, embarassed, and so very angry still. It reminded Antonio to himself a little, when he had his moods; it was jsut what he ahd the impulse to do when he was mad enought. Antonio felt a sudden sting in his stomach. He felt...uneasy. Something was making sense, slowly, and he didn´t like it. His ragewas susbtituted by compassion, his natural urge to protect kicking in in full force.

"Lovi" He called, softly "Has anybody told you what to do instead?"

The Italian looked up, eyes a bit too wide and mouth open, then he looked down, his face even redder with embarassment, and shook his head, glaring at the floor as if he thought that Antonio was trying to tease him on purpose. Antonio's heart broke a little.

" _Nobody_? You have so many adults here..."

"If you're going to leave, just leave already!"

A minute earlier Antonio would have been happy to comply, but now it was different. He just stared, getting information in and letting his heart tell him what to do.

"You know? I get moods too. Sometimes I get so mad that everything turns red, and I get very agressive when that happens. I don´t like feeling like that. It feels awful, right?" The little Italian looked up, incredulous. For a split second he looked his age, honest and innocent, as if looking at Antonio for the first time. The Spanaird smiled warmly without even meaning to. He found himself dodging a kick a seocnd after.

"Liar! You are a lair! Just go already! You hate me! everyone hates me!"

"It´s true. I udnerstand, I have a bad temper too."

"Just go away!" the child cried. Antonio considered an instant, but his gut told him to disregard it. His gut also told him to notice how strongly the kid had reacted to the mere idea of anyone in the planet Earth feeling anger as well.

 _Nobody has ever taought you what to do when you are mad, right?_

God that was so sad! Antonio´s heart coudn´t take it. Didn´t this kid had a mom and an uncle that told him to breathe and count to ten and kissed him after he ahd calmed down?

"I don´t really want to leave" He continued, following his instinct through the thorny path that was the small kid´s mind "but if you really want me to leave, I will have to. Do you?"

The kid glared bloody murder at him. It looked fake tought; much like the cursing. It looked like sobbing in disguise. As if the question...hurt. As if Toni was mocking him, showing him a piece of candy just to snatch it away. As if the kid knew this drill already. Antonio scratched his head, remembering the previous night, remembering every data he could. ´go away _already_ ´.

 _Is that it? You have no uncle Portugal of your own that tells you that´s its okay when the red faces? That is so very sad!_

 _"_ You are mad. Go!"

"I´m not mad exactly!"

"Yes you are! You are you are you are! Now go and leave me alone! I don´t even like you jerk! You are mean and a tease and an asshole!"

"I said it´s okay!"

"Fuck off!"

 _God, I may really regret this._

Antonio hugged the little kid, patting his head and wispering softly in his ear.

"It's okay. You are forgiven. I'm not mad anymore. We can go play now. "  
Those were the exact words that his uncle always told him after his temper got the best of him. It almost never happened now. Antonio ahd learned. But when he was little it happened a lot, and Antonio remembered how bad he felt, and how afraid his uncle and mom woudn´t love him anymore, until the reasurance and the kisses came. He was on alert against possible outbursts of random violence. He was almostexpecting it, and planning his next move, but the kid looked paralyzed. Confussed. His little arms went limp. Antonio caught himself smiling at him. The words got him by surprise though.

"Do you... really get that mad? Like me?" Antonio nodded.

"But I´ve learned to control it. Wuld you like me to teach you how?" Lovino considered his options for a minute.

"Are you gonna hit me like your father hits you?"

Antonio froze in place. The question left a very uncomfortable. The iamge of him hitting someone smaller felt very very very unconfortable. The implications felt even worse and left a bitter buzz in his head when he pushed them suddenly decided that he could teach Lovino to count ten tomorrow.

"Would you like to play with me today?"

It took that for the kid to finally panic and jerk away, staring at Antonio a sif he was some sort of unpredictable lunatic to be afraid of. Antonio managed to keep the laughter in but not to repress a smile. There was something so ironic in the whole thing...

Lovino took his sweet time considering his options. Whatever he was thinking about must be embarrassing, because his face was reddening and he was chewing on his lip. Antonio was expecting a rejection at that point, but finally the little brat gave a guarded look up at him, and he must have seen something that tipped the balance because he snatched Antonio's hand with a familiar eagerness and started pulling without saying a word.

It was the same scene than the day before, and by now Antonio had learned to not take it personally.

Well, he had learned to _try_ and not take it personally. The kid seemed to have trouble communicating, but being pulled around was still annoying as heck.

They made their way out into the main corridor. Lovino looked back at him, as if he expected something. Antonio just returned a blank look. The kid bit his lip, frustrated, and in Antonio's opinion with absolutely no right to be so. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and gave the Spaniard a nervous look. Well, it was technically a glare, but Antonio saw through those at this point and noticed the nervousness underneath. Was Lovino about to show him something important? It looked like it.

Lovino opened his mouth and closed it yet again, like a fish out of the water. It reminded Antonio to the day before, when he froze under Rome's questions. Maybe it was some type of stage fright?

"Where are you taking me, Lovi?" He asked. The kid opened his mouth again, anxious and ready to answer in a hurry, but no sound came out, just a "chig" sounding squeak. He kid glared at nobody in aprticular, contracting his face in rage, and after two more failed attempts at speaking he resorted to pulling again. Antonio sighed in resignation and allowed it. It didn't look like the kid was doing it on ill intent...Or so he had to think to make himself be patient, at least.

They walked for a couple of meters while the boy walked strange _S_ 's in front of him. Lovino looked back often to check Antonio's expression, and didn't seem pleased with what he found. The third time the Italian turned his eyes opened wide. He darted forward and pushed Antonio back. The Spaniard stumbled a step back over his long legs, surprised and a bit upset. He tried not to glare at the child but he was sure he failed at it.

"No, idiot!"

"No what?" Lovino simply puffed his cheeks and grabbed his hand again, pulling in another direction. The spaniard's brow twitched, but he tried to remind himself that the kid was probably anxious. The pulls and pushes and constant stares back seemed to have an intention -beyond annoying him- and Antonio tried to latch to that hypothesis to keep his very un-peaceful nation instincts at bay. He tried to ask but usually Lovino pulled his arm when he started to speak, just to shut him up, as if hearing questions bothered him even more. The memories of the vulnerable kid from the day before were fading quickly, and Antonio's attention gradually shifted from trying to understand what Lovino wanted to say to wondering why he should brother in the first place.

The unexplained push number fifty two did it. He dug his heels into the floor. Lovino bounced against his body and fell on his butt. Antonio felt a bit of twisted delight. He stared down at Lovino, ready to voice his many complaints.

'Nobody pushes Antonio of Iberia around like that for four corridors and a half!' he was about to growl, but he was sabotaged by two wide and wet eyes, staring right at him. His anger faltered. Lovino looked as if his worst fears had become true. There was fear and desperation behind the most unconvincing glare in existence. Antonio felt like he had run a puppy over with his warhorse, and even though the voice of reason told him that he had not done anything wrong-he was the one being pushed!- his anger deserted him immediately. He found himself kneeling and putting a hand on the grumpy child's shoulder, to try and comfort him. His voice soft and heart aching for that terribly sad gaze. The voice of his pride felt distant and ignored.

"I don't understand what you want Lovi. Can you explain it, please?"

He couldn't believe his words. This kid was pushing him and he was trying to negotiate. Lord! If his Moor neighbours, or his mom even, saw him acting this soft they would laugh at him for a century straight. But there was something so sad and desperate in the kid's pushing and in the way in which he waved his arms up and down frustrated, like a bird who can't take off because his wings were too short, that made it impossible for Antonio to be mad. That was cheating.

Lovino looked away from Antonio and mumbled something to himself. Then jumped back on his feet, and grabbed Antonio's hand again, and kept pulling with desperation. Antonio allowed it, but made clear that he was not having fun with any of this. The kid looked back at him to check the Spaniard's face periodically and seemed more disheartened by what he saw every time he looked. By the end of the sixth corridor he looked as if he was about to cry or run away.

Antonio shook his head and stopped again, making sure to grab the kid's hand before he did so to prevent him from bolting away, and kneeled again.

"What is it, Lovi? What do you want me to do?" He whispered softly, brushing a lock of hair from the child's forehead. The italian pouted, lip quivering. He tried to speak, but no sound came out. He shook his head and clenched his fists when his voice refused to work yet again.

"You can't tell me?" Antonio tried again. Lovino bit his lip. He broke free from Antonio's grip and began to pace in front of the older boy. Then, with tears in his eyes, came to Antonio's side and began to push him sideways.

Antonio didn't move an inch. He carefully took the kid's hands in his to keep him from pushing and get his attention again. The little hands felt cold and shaking in his.

"You can't talk when you are nervous, right?" He asked, warmly. The italian fought to talk. It didn't go well. Antonio took it as a confirmation. "It is okay. We'll figure out another way. But you need to tell me what you want, okay? You can't just push people. It makes them feel sad"

Lovino looked hurt and a bit terrified. He stared at the Spaniard as if begging him to take those words back, but Antonio just held his gaze calmly. Lovino looked down in the end, defeated, and the Spaniard could tell that he was making an effort to not throw another fit, but whenever he got his lower lip to stop shaking, his brow would start, it was one or the other.

"You don't want to play with me" He concluded with a quivering voice. Antonio's heart shattered so hard at those words that the crash must have been heard in the British Islands.

"I didn't say that. I want to play with you. But if you want to play, you mustn't push me."

"But. But I have to."

"Why?"

"Because- Because you are playing my game wrong! And-and you're not having fun because you are doing it wrong! And I-I wanted-" The kid spat "and you are getting burned!" and then his body tensed again, face crimson red with frustration and God knows what else, shoulders shrinking under the weight of that unsolvable dichotomy in which he couldn't push and he couldn't not do it.

"So, this was supposed to be a game?"

Well, that was progress. At least Antonio had gotten a clue to start working. Lovino nodded, eyes wet again. Antonio burshed his eyes and the kid jerked back, pushing his hand away but keeping the other hand tightly held by his.

"Eh, don't cry, it is okay"

"I'm not crying!" Antonio tried not to chuckle too hard at that.

"Of course not."

"I'm not!"

"What about this? You point at where you want me to go, and I will go there. Do you think that will work?"

Antonio smiled. The kid looked at him, wide eyed at the revolutionary concept, and nodded enthusiastically. Antonio chuckled.

"Sometimes you have to talk things over, you know?" he informed the child, amused. Lovino was difficult, but he was kind of cute. Antonio could think of better places to be, but at least dealing with the stubborn Italian kept his mind from wandering into everything else he had on his plate, like his Mom being partitioned by his grandparents and hurt and not able to help Portugal with the Vikings, and Portugal worried that their father would do the same to him, and the succession crisis of his mom and his grandpa, and like-. Lovino pushed him, gently this time, to get him to stand. There! It kept his mind from wandering to dark places! Besides, he was being so overly gentle all of the sudden that it looked that he had never even tried it before in his life. Antonio chuckled at the thought. He hopped on his feet, happy as if he had just dodged an arrow.

"I'm ready! Lead the way!"

Lovino nodded, hilarious in his seriousness, and pointed at his right like a man on a mission of conquest. Then, he pointed behind, then in front of him. Antonio noticed that he was testing the system but indulged him and followed his instructions. He earned himself the most hopeful little smile in history. Antonio found himself smiling back. Yeah, the kid was kind of cute, sometimes.

Lovino's face lighted up as he jumped ahead and pointed, determinedly, to a tile behind him. Antonio stepped on it, holding back his chuckle about how the kid hopped in place, just to turn dead serious a second later. This was important for him.

A couple of meters of corridor got Antonio to understand that he was supposed to just step wherever the kid did. When Romano had confirmed his suspicions, the little boy smiled and continued his way, happier, and excited, but not fully satisfied. It was funny to have someone behind him, copying his movements.

"We can only step on white and gray tiles?" Lovino turned, happily surprised, but shook his head, he seemed to be stuck between impatient and excited. He tried to explain himself again, but to no avail, all he got out was that strange choking sound. Antonio hurried to close the distance between them and jump on the same tile as the kid, pushing him jokingly and distracting him from whatever anxiety provoking thought he was getting caught into. Lovino made a yelp of protest as he was tickled and jumped to an oddly to the side to a random black tile. Then he stuck his tongue out to the Spaniard. Antonio laughed.

"You are a tease!" Antonio laughed and jumped towards the same place, forcing the child to jump away in a hurry

"I get it! We mustn't step on red tiles"  
Lovino turned towards him, wide-eyed and nodded in a sudden burst of enthusiasm. Antonio tried not to laugh as Lovino suddenly realized how happy he must look and forced his face into a neutral expression. He clearly didn't want to look too eager just to have someone play with him. Antonio allowed himself a smile, trying to keep his mind on how cute that was rather than the kind of sad idea that this kid would get so excited over someone just paying attention to him.

He took a step towards Lovino, or at least tried to. Before he could set his foot down Lovino shoved him into the wall.

"Lovi!" He growled, "we talked about this!'

He opened his mouth and the anger on his face turned to horror. He began to murmur unintelligibly at his shoes. Antonio knew it was sorry, it was written all over his face. He shouldn't accept this type of apology though...

Oh well.

He lifted his hands

"I'm not mad" he stated, willing it to be a little truer than it was. Lovino relaxed and scratched his head.

" I'm-hm..." Well, some words, that was progress. Antonio followed his gaze.

" No stepping on yellow either?" Lovino nodded" orange" he nodded again."Not touching warm colours?" the kid smiled, and nodded, and looked around, clearly noticing how silly his game really was and how it would have been easy to explain if he could talk. Antonio noticed the creeping blush to his cheeks and acted fast with an explosion of histrionism to distract him.

"Warm colours burn!" Antonio celebrated "They are all melted rock! We are in the lair of a fierce three-headed dragon, deep into a volcano! We are inside the high dark castle, and there are rivers of lava flowing to the sides! And they flow within the castle to stop adventurers ! but we will not be stopped by it! Count me in!" He punched his chest and swore to complete the mission. He could picture it now, the high castles and the rivers of lava flowing to the sides! In his mind the dragon wore a turban, for some reason, but who was he to question the fashion choices of the creature? Lovino's growing little smirk broke into a chuckle. The Italian seemed as surprised as his sudden pleasant sound as anyone else, but couldn't push the corners of his mouth down again. Besides, he didn't really want to.

"Idiot…"

"Of course. Who else would walk into a dragon den?"

They continued jumping from tile to tile, climbing on furniture, avoiding the deadly vapours of sulfur and the hands of sinners poking out of the melted rock to grab at their ankles (Antonio's dramatization, the sound of popping tar bubbles included. Lovino laughed every time he put his finger in his mouth to make the popping sound, so the river of sulfur and melted rock turned out to be a very carbonated one. Lovino found himself following Antonio instead of leading. The Spaniard was completely in character at this point, moving furtively from tile to tile, back hunched and gaze studying his surroundings. Lovino copied him, trying to muffle his chuckles, half nerves, half delight, behind his hands. As they crossed a rather monotonous corridor, jumping from white tile to white tile, Antonio heard footsteps and jumped behind a loveseat pulling Lovino with him. The kid looked confused, but the look in his partners' eyes got himself stunned into silence and camping under the couch. In front of them, two deacons walked talking about the pretty ladies of the back alley behind the market street" Guards!" Antonio whispered " we need to stay quiet"

"Okay," the Italian whispered back. Then stayed meditative for an moment. "Guards guarding what?" he finally asked.

"I don't know, what are we trying to get?" Lovino's eyes widened in terror, he was clearly unprepared to be put in charge of such an important story element. Antonio showed the palms of his hands hurrying to do some damage control

"Okay! Okay! We are...ug...looking for... a bull skin made of gold!"

"What"

"The sheep is taken already" Antonio winked when Lovino looked confused. "There, they're gone. Let's go, but be careful!" They quietly crawled out of the corridor, jumping from tile to tile, until they got to a second room with green marble floors. Antonio stopped, doubting.

"Lovi, is green a warm color?"

"Yes" the kid determined, immediately. Antonio looked at him unconvinced.

"Are you sure? It has a lot of blue in it." Lovino looked at him. A stare so intense Antonio felt like he was boring holes through his eyes then nodded again, with doubled conviction, and looked away, blushing.

"Yes. It is warm. Very warm"

Antonio was puzzled by the sequence of signals, but he decided that he had done more than enough reading between the lines for a day. If this kid had something to say, he was going to have to say it out loud.

"Well. Then crossing this one is going to be hard"

"We can't cross this one, is all green" the kid shrugged and turned around to walk to another room, but Antonio knew that was not that easy for himself.

"I can't leave. I don't leave things halfway" He informed, noticing his own eyes narrow in concentration.

Antonio was aware that he wasn't perfect. He had some defects, like everyone. Pride was one of them. Pride, in his case, probably was large enough to count as six or seven defects to be honest. He knew, he just couldn't...help it sometimes. All the time. Never. Some nights Antonio thought about how it was supposed to be his job to overcome the pride of the Goths in the name of his family and save his family from hell, and how completely screwed they all were if that was the case.

"You are going to break something."

"That...is a possibility, yes."

Lovino looked at him as if he was an idiot. Understandably so, Antonio agreed that he was getting a bit too carried away. But right now Antonio couldn't care, because this was a challenge and boy did he love those! He was beginning to get a little giddy, and somehow knowing that he was likely going to break something and get into big trouble made it even more interesting! He had not been in a battle in forever ( a month or so!) and he missed the feeling of excitement. He was already problem solving. There was no way he was going anywhere until the challenge was completed.

" You can go if you want, but I do not retreat."

"It can't be done!"

"I will find a way."

"How?"

"I don't know yet, but I will."

"What type of answer is that?!"

"Mine. I don't retreat."

Lovino face palmed.

"Well! Are you running like a baby, Lovi? Or are you going to help me?"

"Eh…"

" If you leave I'll keep the golden bull all for myself!" Antonio taunted. Lovino didn´t seem convinced, but he didn´t want to leave either. He tried to make himself leave the Spaniard´s company, but coudn´t, and turned back halfway, transformed from a cowering rabbit to a tiny bull, stomping his foot on the ground he said, "I-I'm keeping you out of trouble, dammit!"

"But we have to complete our mission!" Antonio whined, not above emotional manipulation. Lovino seemed to falter before trying valiantly to look determined. Unfortunately, the expression was not at home on his face and he seemed to be in a little pain.

"And..." Antonio smirked, "I know exactly how to do it."

Lovino looked scared, but nevertheless grinned maniacally as he climbed onto the loveseat from the other hallway. ., With a triumphant finger pointed forward,he watched as Antonio pulled the seat back a few meters then hurtle forwards, shoving it at full speed. Just before stepping on the edge of green marble, he heaved the seat down the hallway. Lovino crossed the room at high speed, the wind pulling his hair back and shrieks of delight escaping his lips, until he collided with a heavy shelf knocking a good chunk of the books onto the floor.. He blinked and took a couple of seconds to process what had just happened. He was a bit surprised at how strong Antonio was. He kept forgetting.

"Hey! Your turn Lovi! Take me out of here!"

"I'm going dammit! I'm going!"

It was now Lovino's time to shine. He gathered up the cushions from the couch and prepared to make the greatest display of discus throwing since ancient Greece. The results, however, were...less than ideal. The four blue cushions were all too close to the shore, making more of a square than any sort of pathway. Antonio was unfazed, in fact after a moment of examining his options, a grin split his face. Much for Lovino's surprise Spain dropped onto all fours with one appendage on each cushion, spread and proceeded to advance towards Lovino like a pond skater. Lovino had to laugh. It was just hilarious to watch. His laughter was loud and ugly, but felt so nice. Somehow, he discovered, laughing is one of those things that makes itself worse the more you give in. From then on any movement the Spaniard did in his ridiculously effective advancing system was even funnier, and he was fairly sure Antonio stayed in a ridiculous position far longer than he needed just to make him laugh, and somehow that made it all funnier.

By the time Antonio managed to heroically bite back his own bursts of laughter and jump on board of the loveseat by the shelves, the Italian was bent over his stomach and laughing like crazy.

Lovino's stomach hurt, he wanted to stop laughing, but at the same time, he didn't. He didn't know your tummy could hurt from happiness. He knew that he was red as a strawberry, but for once he didn't mind; he didn't even consider that the Spaniard could be laughing at him. It never crossed his mind. The entire set of sensations, even the lack of suspicion, were new, and wonderful.

Antonio caressed his shoulder to help him calm down, even though he himself was laughing a little too.

"C'mon, Lovi, hold on to my back, we are crossing this" Is then that Lovino noticed the big flaw in their plan. He stepped back, horrified. Horror that soon turned into anger. What was wrong with that idiot?

"No!" he protested, to angry to explain anything else. Antonio looked confused.

" Why not?"

"B-You're hurt!"

"Oh! Don't worry about that! C'mon up!"

The Italian inflated his cheeks and tapped with his foot. He was not taking this shit.

"You-are-hurt!" He repeated when his faces didn't work. Antonio suddenly felt like a reprimanded child.

"I'm a nation. I heal quick. You won't repone anything I promise. Just hol-"

"No!"

"Don't be so drama-"

The Italian moved to his back and pulled his shirt up. Antonio tried to prevent it but Lovino slapped his hand away. Antonio would have resisted but it was such a mother-ish thing to do that it stunned him into compliance by association. It was all Lovino needed to confirm what he already knew. He poked his head from behind Antonio, cheeks puffed again and glaring guilt and blame at Antonio straight in the eye after seeing how bad his back still looked. Antonio tried to explain but by the look of Lovino he was having none of it. He pointed at the front of the loveseat with his chubby little finger, demanding immediate obedience. Antonio knew the kid was not letting him off the hook, so he sighed and recline forward on the loveseat, letting the kid pull his clothes up again, to uncover the bruises on his back.

"It is fine, really. It looks worse than it feels" He grumbled, feeling the shame rush back to his cheeks again. He was ignored. Antonio felt the stare of the kid, and shy little fingers brushing here and there for what felt like an eternity. He buried his face in his arms willing himself to stay still instead of covering back and darting away. The kid was taking an eternity indeed. He was even starting to feel cold. Well, that might be because all his blood was rushing to his face right now, but still. Lovino hummed worriedly behind him.

"Done yet?" Antonio complained, just to be ignored again. Or maybe he was just quiet. The kid tendency to not talk or explain himself was really irritating. Maybe he should leave. What was he doing there anyway?

"You can't do anything, okay? Leave it alon-"

He felt a quick, little kiss on one of his wounds that got his attention, and a quick pull down of his shirt. When he turned, surprised, Lovino was looking the other way.

"It is better now." Lovino informed him, bright red and without looking. Antonio bit his lip to keep the bursting warm feeling in.

"My turn. " he heard himself saying. Lovino twitched and shied away initially, but something in his head must have reminded him it was fair, so he reluctantly complied and turned around.

"It doesn't hurt" Lovino informed him, in a last weak attempt to dissuade him. Antonio lifted his shirt to examine the little burns "See? It's better." Lovino said and it sounded like he believed it. As if he really thought that it should be better just because he had fun today and was feeling better himself, but Antonio felt himself go pale at what he saw.

It wasn't better. Not only wasn't better, but it didn't look good at all.

Last night had been too dark for him to notice the small shapes, he only saw the big burns, but now he saw that those were the least of Lovino's problem. The shape of the burns were losing the starry shape they were meant to have, the centre of power, or the temporary camp, with the trails of the destruction of raids branching out that long lasting viking incursions made. Instead, the burns and scars looked more like wide circles of destruction. Antonio had never seen something like this, especially not from Vikings. It wasn't normal.

His eyes sharpened, meditatively, as he pondered what he saw. He ignored the little, normal stars that were located here and there and focussed on the very strange circles. A big center in Aversa, other in Melfi. Round cars like...like expansion scars, and white, pale soft flesh in the center that wasn't even swollen anymore. Carefully, he poked at the skin at the center of the burns. Lovino didn't move. He poked harder, and even pinched. The kid didn't notice a thing. He had no sensitivity there anymore. Antonio swallowed thickly.

"Lovi...You need to tell your grandpa about this."

"W-why? Is-Is it bad?"

Should he lie? No, lies were a sin. Plus, he didn't like it when others lied to him.

"Yes. It is"

"Why?"

"...Your Normans. They are unifying. They-They aren't raiding you now. They're conquering you." Lovino went pale and began to shake a little. "C'mon, Stand. We need to tell your grandpa."

"N-no!" the kid protested and pulled his hand away from Antonio. He curled in a corner of the loveseat terrified. "He knows."

"What?"

"He-he checked yesterday too. He...knows how it looks"

"And he…" _and he doesn't care?_ was the rest of the question Antonio left hanging in the air. He started it without thinking, but it felt too cruel to finish it. Antonio felt the sadness of the finding sink gradually in. The Italian's back was still bare in front of him. Antonio didn't know what he could do to help but wanted to do something. He lied forward and placed a soft kiss on the other child's back, then pulled his shirt back down.

" I hate them" Lovino mumbled, miserably, curling up around one of the cushions. Antonio only nodded and watched the kid bury his face against the soft surface "There was this Pope. He was a Saint. He tried to get those bastards to back the fuck off and stop looting at least. He got Holy Rotten Face to fight with him to kick them out of my land, but… but he lost," he sighed, "He was great you know? He promised he would never ever ever let the Normans control me and would never recognize their power. But he died a month ago. All of a sudden. Nobody has even cared to kick them out before him. They've been giving them castles and titles for years. And nobody cares after after him either." The Spaniard nodded in silence, meditative. What could he say? He didn't have his mom and grandpa's army, and his dad was kind of weak. He couldn't fix the invasion, so he did the next best thing. He decided to make Lovino laugh.

" When we get the golden bull skin we will buy you a big army to kick them all out and hang their heads from palm trees!" The kid suggested happily. Lovino wrinkled his nose.

"Gross!"

" Not at all gross! It will look very pretty." Antonio insisted, waving his hands.

"G-r-oss!" Lovino repeated louder, waving his arms.

"Pretty!" Spain insisted, tapping Lovino's nose for emphasis.

"Dead heads bring flies!"

"We will stuff them with live lizards and they will eat them!"

"What?"

"They will poke through the eyeholes, like this" Antonio made a great impersonation of a lizard poking his tongue out to eat a fly, Lovino was both grossed out and amused, but he tried to hold on to the seriousness of the matter.

"And I don't have palm trees."

"We will buy those too! We will use the golden bull's ears for that and will bring them on ships! Red and yellow ships! A lot of them!" Lovino chuckled despite himself.

"Tacky!"

"Not tacky! Pretty!" He declared dramatically "And flowers! We will put flowers in their hair and beards then! To make the chain of heads even prettier. What is your favourite flower?"

The Italian wanted to protest of the stupidity of it, but he felt that pointing it out would make him stupider. He found himself laughing through his teeth.

"Daisies."

"They suit you. Daisies it is! And palm trees and lizards!"

"You are crazy."

"Maybe a little bit." Antonio winked an eye. "But keep the secret, okay?" The Italian just shook his head with a half smile, no longer looking sad.

* * *

The warm July sun skipped happily into the Papal State's office. In front of him a very uncomfortable Aragon of Iberia caressed his black beard

"So, I'll be honest, Aragon, as far as I know, you need me more than I need you. You're just a young kingdom, barely independent and surrounded on all sides by Europe's most formidable military powers- young France grows stronger and stronger each year, and he wants to take his father's empire back. Not only that but-" Rome wasn't sure if being direct would be the best or the worst idea, but knowing the goths, being direct was probably the only way, "You and your people are more moor, jew and pagan than anyone else in know it, I know it, All nations know it and no one will ally with you, right? You need my support just to show your face past the pyrenees without being attacked. You want allies? What have you got to offer me?"

"My son" The man answered, calmly.


	7. Bird View (July 1054)

Warning: Politics and medieval talk, so a lot of homophobia and racism.

* * *

-Disease and love can´t be hiden for long-Italian Proverb

* * *

Antonio shot a glance over his shoulder to look at the trail of blue books he and Lovino were leaving behind them. A big part of him cringed at treating such expensive and valuable things so carelessly, but a bigger part of him was determined to go through with the adventure no matter the cost. He made a mental note to come back and pick up the mess later, and that was enough to quiet down his conscience. Finally, he had come up with an alternative to cross the green floor. Lovino and him took a bunch of books from the shelves and were turning them into a road in front of them as they walked. Lovino picked the ones from the tail up and passed them onto Antonio, who put them in front of them to build the growing-and-shrinking path from the shelves to the thin bit of safe white marble floor that was the next room.

Antonio jumped off from the last book into the white marble, opened the door with great care not to step on the wrong place, and waited for the Italian to catch up and join him. They checked for guards quickly, jumped into the new room, and closed the door behind them. There was no time to relax though. They had barely settled in the new room when they heard steps coming their way.  
Antonio felt a pleasant shot of excitement at the new danger. He pointed at a group of chairs in a corner, covered with a white cloth. Lovino nodded frantically, and both kids threw themselves behind the furniture, quick like rabbits, before the main door connecting the room with the corridor swung open.

"Do they have armor? Are them many? What do we do?" Lovino whispered through his teeth, pushing against the Spaniard to take less room.  
"Pst, Hide, for now!" Antonio gave a quick peek outside and hid behind the chairs. The intruders were two young novices, or priests, with a thick book.  
" They don't have armor. They are Wizards. They have robes and a spell book with them. And a sword!"  
"Wizards with a sword?"  
"They are combat wizards!" Antonio declated. Lovino nodded in awe. He wad all ready to attack the guards, but combat wizards sounded scary, maybe caution would be best.

Oblivious to the two kid´s presence, the two young priests, only one of them ordained, looked around the room like scared mice and locked the door behind them, locking it with a chair for safety. After a last look around for unnamed dangers, the eldest walked towards the covered chairs at the back and opened the book for his companion to see. They were both Italian, and spoke too fast for Antonio to understand a word of their thickly accented vulgar Latin, too different to his own dialect, but Lovino had no problem following their conversation.

"The pope didn't want this going around, he says it is too incendiary" The eldest one said, between excited and worried. His partner shook his head.  
"If the Pope said it was a bad idea for it to be around..."  
"Oh! C´mon!"  
"He is the Pope, he knows better!"  
"Like the pope before the last one?"  
"That was an outlier!"The young one complained defensively "It's because the Germans keep choosing the Pope! As soon as we get rid of them-"  
"You are being a baby! How can be fighting against sin in the church be too violent?" the un-ordained priest answered "I think he is one of them" One of the other kid grew pale.  
"You don't mean that! Watch our mouth! And I don't want to know anything about this!" But he leaned right into the book his partner was opening. Not bad for not wanting to know anything about it.

Lovino tilted his head, amused at the hypocrisy. The eldest priest started reading with a slightly nervous voice.

 _"Since priests are spiritual fathers of the people, those who sleep with their spiritual daughters shall receive the same punishments as those who sleep with their carnal daughters and pervert them with such a concubine rial sin."_

"So they say that priest should not-like, ever sleep with anyone?"  
"Well, that isn't a new idea, is it?"

Romano probably understood more of that sentence than he should by age. It made some sense, but boy! His grandfather wasn't going to appreciate the idea. Nor most of his bosses, he was sure.

However, it made sense. He himself had some complains about how often priests did whatever they wanted and slept around. He decided he already liked whomever had written that thing. They were calling out his grandpa and he obtained some secret pleasure from that. Whomever wrote that seemed to know what they were talking about.

"Pst. Lovi" Antonio called him out. "C'mon, they are distracted now, let's get moving"

The Italian nodded and crawled quickly to catch up with the Spaniard, who moved on his stomach, quiet and slow like a lizard approaching its prey.

 _"... however, these sins, besides being incestuous are natural for they happened with a woman. But whoever commits such a sacrilege with their spiritual son, and perpetrate this incest with a man goes against nature. I'd estimate that even sinning with an animal is more tolerable than corrupting oneself in infamy with another male.  
_ This vice can´t be compared to any other, for it surpasses them all. This vice is the death of the body, the damnation of the soul; it poisons the flesh, dumbs the intellect, expels the Holy Spirit from the temple of the heart and invites in the devils of lust. It inducts to error and stills truth from the mind, fooling it."

Lovino felt paralized again. he was not used to such strong language in sermons. Was that was his brother´s people were saying?

Well, they must be right, they were Rome´s favorites after all, but-Damnaton of the soul? A vice that can´t be compared? That sounds pretty scary, really really really scary actually. The words got ingraved in his mind. He could think of all sorts of vices, like piracy and violence and bloodlust, and to imagine something worse than that made his skin crawl. Was it that bad? He had no idea! Lovino was vaguely aware of this things happening but never cared much about it, nor did his people. he had no idea it was this serious!

The little nation didn't realize that he had stopped crawling until Antonio called him out on it again. The little Italian closed his hanging mouth, shook his head and quickly tried to catch up again. He moved too quickly though, and disturbed the readers. He needed a quick last minute leap and a pull from the arm by Antonio to get under the second group of chairs in time to not be discovered.

" I thought I saw something moving"  
"Don't fuck me with that! Are you sur-?!"

"Nevermind, lets keep reading." The eldest one was dubious for a second, but eventually the attractiveness of the text won him over."This is my favorite part. Is about that while we-just-love-each other shit you hear around in the Kingdom of Italy" The other nodded, and the eldest kept reading " _No matter the sin, it is always less miserable that one in which one jumps to perdition alone, than this, in which the damnation of one depends on the other, and while one throws themselves into perdition, the other is made to follow him in this path of eternal death…_."  
"...that makes sense…"

The young one conceded with a nod of the head. Lovino stopped again without noticing it. The truth is that it did make sense. It was known to be humiliating, even the prostitutes in his ports didn't like it, and if it was a sin… How could someone say that they loved another and still want to do that to them?

Lovino thought for a momment on how it would feel. He sometimes hurt people he liked, he hit them when he lost his temper and he felt like the worst garbage afterwards. Well, he was the worst garbage, granted, but he coudn´t imagine someone bad enought to-to drag another in the worst vice ever! The thing of sins was, you knew they were bad but coudn´t help yourself. Draging someone with you though seemed to be a whole new level of being disgusting.  
Lovino frowned. he was no expert in theology, but clearly a sin in which you dragged others down with you had to be worse than anything you did on your own. It was like being shelfish squared!  
The young priest asked out loud the same question that was starting to take shape in Lovino´s mind.

"How could you do that to someone you love?"

That´s exactly what Lovino was thinking! His thoughts went to the funny Spaniard for a momment...Even dragging down someone you just know for a day but who is kind to you seemed too evil to even conceive. The words got engraved in the young Italian´s mind with fire, like an echo of his own thoughts. He was too focused on them to notice the worried glance that Antonio was giving him from some distance.

"I know!" the eldest priest continued over his head "That is my point! They obviously don´t love the other Is just a pretty name for lust. "

Lovino nodded in agreement from his hidding place.

"And it continues, listen… _This pestilence reigns among sodomites and turns those who submit to its law in useless as men and detestable to God. It forces them to start an abominable war against God and militate under the insignia for the most evil spirits... "_

Wow! That sounded awful! Lovino felt a jolt of fear going through his spine. The entire text was compelling and raw, but there was something in the word "useless" that just connected with his most basic fears and made him turn pale. That thing, sleeping with guys, makes you _useless_. And not even God would love you anymore! And of course the guy with you woudn´t love you either, because he didn´t do it in the first place or he woudn´t be getting you into this mess in the first place. Oh God, what had his people been doing all this time! Who would be so crazy as to give into this insanity?

"Lovi!" Antonio´s voice whispered near him "You have gotten distracted again! C´mon! We need to hurry!" Lovino shook his head again, realizing how far behind he was, and started crawling again.

 _"..._ I´m going _"_

But he wans´t going. The whole weight of those heavy words and the realization of how bad something he used to consider just weird was had him pinned in place. Lovino didn't notice that he had frozen, prey to a dark and terrible fascination with the entire matter until his friend pulled his sleeve. He shook his head and answered to Antonio's slightly reproachful gaze with a determined nod. Both kid spoke their heads at once and checked for "moors on the coast", as he said. Antonio didn't deem safe to leave while they were arguing, it was better to wait until they were reading again. Lovino nodded and cuddled against the other to take up less room. The sensation was surprisingly pleasant. When the two men's string of incomprehensible words became steady again and their eyes were locked in the mages, Antonio nodded and started crawling again, with Lovino by his side. They had no more shelter on their way out, because the curtains of this room were red and there was nothing else to hide under or behind of. They'd have to make it for the door in one go!

 _"Four types of this form of criminal wickedness can be distinguished in an effort to show you the totality of the whole matter in and orderly way: some sin with themselves alone ; some by the hands of others; others between the thighs; and finally, others commit the complete act against nature. "_

This time, Lovino stopped intentionally. He wanted to hear the list. He wanted to make sure he wasn´t doing any of those terrible things. In fact, he wanted to make sure that he never ever did any of it. Antonio pat his shoulder hurriedly again, and even so, he resisted. "Pestilence" "Abomination". That sounded like really important things to know about. This wasn´t aproved by the Pope, sure, but...but it still made sense and was written by people who made sense and who clearly cared about virtue, they were critizising other priests and everything, so they had to be right!

Besides, the simple words, the description of the actions, got some disgusting but vivid effect in the young kid´s imagination. He had grown up in ports filled with merchants, and prostitutes of every price and kind. Some had practically raised him as surogate mothers, so he knew enough things he shouldn't for his age to understand what was being said and how embarassing it all was. He could even make a very exact mental image of what they were saying, and put faces to people who for sure liked that jazz, but he had never stopped to think about it like now, because he had never thought it was so serious. Why would anyone want to do any of that ? And at the same time, if so many people wanted to, there had to be something to it; he almsot wanted to turn the ideas in his head until he could figure out what it was. Was it the loving thing the priests had mentioned?

Antonio on the other hand didn´t understand a word of their language, and even if he had he would not have understood the content at all. He had not been raised in wealthy ports filled with pleasures and places to spend money, but in monasteries and battle camps ruled by practicity. He knew about sheeps and dogs reproduction and he knew that soldiers stroked themselves after a really stressful time and he coudn´t care less about either thing. He cared far more about swords and games, and right now he didn't want to be discovered by magic wielding guards in a dragon den and thrown into the dungeons either! He had seen and been in real world dungeons, and they were not nice places to be in. Still, Lovino was like frozen in place, eyes wide as he stared forward, halfway between terrified and really interested.

 _"The ascending gradation among these is such that the last mentioned are judged to be more serious that the preceding. Indeed, a greater penance is imposed on those who fall with others than those who defile only themselves; and those who complete the act are to be judged more severely than those who are defiled through femoral fornication. The devil's artful fraud devices these degrees of falling into ruin such that the higher the level the unfortunate soul reaches in them, the deeper it sinks in the depths of hell's pit The church is far too lenient with all four of them, specially the first three, which prompt the soul towards the point in which it is already too late to escape._  
 _Tell us, you unmanly and effeminate man, what do you seek in another male that you do not find in yourself?" would surely prefer to be thrown into the well like Joseph who informed his father of his brothers' foul crime, than to suffer the penalty of God's fury, like Eli, who saw the wickedness of his sons and remained silent. How, indeed, am I to love my neighbor as myself if I negligently allow the wound, of which I am sure he will brutally die, to fester in his heart? ..." So let no man condemn me as I argue against this deadly vice, for I seek not to dishonor, but rather to promote the advantage of my brother's well-being."_

That was far too much. Too terrifying. Depths of hell´s pit, and oh fucking God he was going to have nightmaares! Lovino darted in motion pulling Antonio with him, forgetting to crawl. Antonio found himself suddenly going from puller to pullee.

 _"... It is inconceivable that those habituated to the filth of this festering disease yet dare to present themselves for holy orders. Anyone found in sin against nature, if a cleric, must be deposed and locked up in a monastery cell to do penance for life. If he is a secular, he shall be excommunicated until he completes 25 years of penance and kept away from the community of the loyal."_

"No, sorry Angie, but I agree with Pope Leo, may his soul rest in peace. I think this guy is going overboard."  
"So you find that normal?"  
"Well! Normal-normal, no, but c'mon! Excommunication is… Well, you know, a bit too much! And you can't just kill people for sinning!"  
"He doesn't say to kill anyone."  
"How exactly are you planning on keeping them away from the community of loyal then?"  
"I don't know, send them with Muslims, where they belong?"  
"Yeah, I think the Iberian would have something to say about sending Cordoba more soldiers."  
"Are there any Iberian alive still?"  
"Who do you think translated those poems you read?"  
"The point is, we need to be able to tell who are about to convert before they keep expanding! People are converting! I heard that it is happening in Naples all the time! We need to figure out how it happens and I think moral weakn-"

Lovino crawled near his friend a bit too fast, stumbling with his own legs. He was imagining all sort of things involving fire and demons shoving coals under his skin and God knows what else! He wanted out, this all was really scaring him! And to think that it would all be for-Who on Earth would risk it? Who on Earth would drag a friend into that? People, were sick! Those were the vague things he was thinking as he snuggled against Antonio and almost tripped him. This all felt disturbing and new and strange, and he coudn´t even organize his thoughts about it!

"Wait, I've heard something."  
" Who is there?!" The young man yelled, standing up.

Antonio jumped in place, thorn between being reasonable and break character, and keep playing and scape. Lovino panicked, for unknown causes, and just slammed the door closed before Antonio could stop him, giving them away. Antonio misunderstood the gesture (or maybe he didn't?) as the kid wanting to keep the game up and pressed his back against the door, holding the doorknob up to keep it from opening. At the beginning the struggle was in his favor but the moment the other two started charging shoulder first he was in trouble. He may be strong but two adults charging against a door wasn't something he could overcome by brute force alone, and he knew it.

"Get me a chair" he commanded. Lovino looked around for one of the right height, but he had no time to even locate it before they heard their enemies take impulse at the other side of the door. There was no way he could stop that. "Forget it!, get ready to open the door!"  
"What?!"  
"Just trust me!"

Lovino stared, ready. Antonio jumped to one of the sides of the door and got his hand on the doorknob. The Italian imitated him, clumsily, getting ready for God knows what.  
They listen as the steps come closer. Antonio gives the sign. The two halves of the large door swing open before the impact. The two, panicking clerics burst in just to be tripped by the leg of an invisible enemy. They heard an exclamation with a strange accent and felt, more than saw, something jump and run all over their fallen bodies. By the time they could turn and see the opposite door was getting closed dramatically.  
Antonio and Lovino re-walked the bridge of blue books in the opposite direction, picking up the books as they went and carrying them to make another bridge towards the door. The efficacy with which they worked astonished even them. By the time the two evil guards, also known as poor confused priests, made it across the room with the white carpet and into the library, all they could find was an inexplicable mess, a secured door to the corridor, and no puckish kids to be found in the entire floor.

The two young men felt as relieved as they felt confused. Whatever the spies were, this didn't seem to be the work of a bishop.

* * *

The blue sky gave them a warm welcome. Birds chirped getting ready for bed and the two kids breath quickly, faces red and fresh from the exercise.

"That was close!" the Spanish exclaimed, exultant.

Lovino nodded. He was oddly satisfied with his performance, adrenaline still running through his veins and keeping him elated. They hadn't just escaped, they had managed to escape without stepping in the wrong places! Nailed it! How Antonio looked at him curious.

"What were they saying that was so interesting?" Antonio asked from the (white) stone of the patio fountain. Lovino shrugged his shoulders.

"Nothing."

"Oh! C´mon! Tell me!"

The Italian blushed, but with his face already flushed from the running, it was hard to tell-

"They-ehr... They were talking about bad clerics sleeping around, and that they-they shouldn't tho that" The Italian answered. He had no idea of why he was lying to Antonio. He just was. He might know a lot of these things from running around on the ports, but precisely that made them strange and embarrassing.

Lovino considered if he should ask Antonio's opinion on the whole thing about skin burning and heart beating and hell. Just the thought sent a wave of blush all through his body and to the tip of his hair. No, definitely he was not repeating those words out loud.

"People is obsessing over that a lot!" Antonio exclaimed, throwing his hands up "As far as your priests are good fighters who cares?"

Lovino nodded, absent mindedly. The words didn't make sense to him either. The felt foreign to him. But somehow, they refused to leave him alone. Thy were nesting in the back of his head,stored for future times. Besides, the priests said the ideas came from the kingdom of Italy, and his brother was supposed to be very smart. Maybe he was right?

"I'm not tired anymore" he announced. Spain nodded and looked up at him, that infectious, warm smile back he had seen through the spyglass back in place, so relaxed and happy and caring in some nameless way, luring him in towards nowhere.  
"What do you want to play?" Lovino said nothing. He observed the smile directed his way and the question as if they were something incomprehensible.

He looked kind of cute like that. A bit innocent even. Besides, he was real fun. Lovino wanted to say something, or do something, but he wasn't sure of what. He wanted to say that Antonio looked all innocent and that it was cute that he didn't insist on asking, and he wanted to say that he had had a lot of fun that day, but he couldn't find the words. What does one say to someone who is being nice to you?

"Even if you are funny I´m not gonna let you invade me like that Holy Rotten Face is trying to! You are warned!".

He snapped.

Well, he wasn't sure what you are supposed to say to nic epeople, but yelling at him was probably not it. Antonio looked at him for an instant, then laughed loudly. He wasn't upset at Lovino, the Italian discovered in delight; he just saw through his snap, and laughed. Lovino felt light, something with wings fluttering in his stomach.

* * *

The warm July sun skipped happily into the Papal State's office. In front of him a very uncomfortable Aragon of Iberia caressed his black beard

"So, I'll be honest, Aragon, as far as I know, you need me more than I need you. You're just a young kingdom, barely independent and surrounded on all sides by Europe's most formidable military powers- young France grows stronger and stronger each year, and he wants to take his father's empire back. Not only that but-" Rome wasn't sure if being direct would be the best or the worst idea, but knowing the goths, being direct was probably the only way, "You and your people are more moor, jew and pagan than anyone else in Europe*.You know it, I know it, All nations know it and no one will ally with you, right? You need my support just to show your face past the pyrenees without being attacked. You want allies? What have you got to offer me?"

"My son" The man answered, calmly.

"He's half moor too. Just as suspect and dirty blooded as you, if not worse."

Aragon wanted to punch Rome in the face and see those perfect white teeth crash down to bits like glass, but he was far too practical to let his temper get the best of him. For now. He´d make them swallow his words in time.

"Antonio is strong. The arabs are weak. He is winning terrain quickly. He will become a strong ally soon."

"Indeed. I can feel his potential. But you can't give me something you don't fully own. The boy is not only yours, and we both know that you have no control over his mother."

"No, that is true, but if you help me grow he'll protect you from the Arabs. He'll clean the coast for you."

"Really? That's all?"

"I expected you to be more anxious to get the Arabs off your door and get a chance at recovering Sicily. A real chance."

The Papal States examined his guest slowly. He looked unimpressed, but Aragon knew that if Rome didn't want something from him he would not even have agreed to the meeting in the first place, so he waited. Rome took a glass of wine and turned it in his hand, distractedly.

" I have one offer for you, just one, and only after your child proves his usefulness to me"

"And what offer would that be?"

"Become my vassal."

"What?"

"You heard me. Vassal, henchman, servant, lackey...you can even choose the name. You will become subordinate to me. Of course, your child would be mine too." the old empire smirked trying not to get carried away by the sudden rush of power "It is fair. If France attacks you, he would be, effectively, attacking my territories and that would give all Christian nations the right and duty to attack him, and they will. I"ll make sure that Holy Roman does at least. Besides," Rome held a long pause. Aragon of Iberia looked taken aback, to put it mildly.

"You can't own Antonio without his mother's permission, you said it yourself!"

"Leave Castile to me. She still lives in Leon's house, right? I know how to handle that man," The voice of an old empire reverberated through the room, dangerous and cunning. Aragon felt a shiver down his spine.

"I-I didn't come here to be dominated again," Aragon snarled.

"It would be different - I wouldn't make you live here all the time. Besides, you're weak. Your choice here isn't really whether or not to be a subordinate, but rather, who you would like to be subordinate to. I assure you, you won't get such an upfront, _non-violent_ , offer again from any of the others. You only give me some vague promise of protection against the Arabs, and a child-nation without land who may not even survive another century before being dissolved. I'm offering you protection from Castile, Navarre and the French. Besides," Rome leaned forward and took Aragon's jaw in his hand, forcing him to look directly into his smirking eyes, "you wouldn't be just some throwaway conquest to me."

The Iberian clenched his jaw, unconvinced and pulled out of the larger man's grasp.

"You're under Holy Rome's thumb, how do I know I'm not becoming a vassal to him?" Aragon asked suspiciously. Rome sneered, exuding power with every breath, it was drowning Aragon, trying to bring him to his knees.

"Ah. My friend, I won't be dependent on him for long," he said, leaning back in his chair. Aragon was confused.

"But he's here right now and expecting to appoint the next pope."

"He is going to be greatly disappointed unfortunately. The little brat doesn't know how weak his position is yet. In less than five years this will be over and all kingdoms will be under me. With your help of course."

"Then in less than five years I will become your vassal."

Rome nodded, and extended his hand towards Aragon.

"Then you have less than five years to prove how useful your son can really be. I have a problem with Saracen pirates you two can start with."

Aragon couldn't breathe as he felt his hand reach out to take Rome's. His heart sank as his soul was sold to an unforgiving devil.

* * *

"So, you managed to charm the son of the devil after all" Aragon commented with a proud grin crossing his tired expression. Antonio chuckled from the edge of the bed. He followed his father's movement with his eyes, attentive and clever, eager to please. The night was finally resting over Rome, Aragon left his far too warm jacket inside the closet.

" You told me last night that I must."

" I did. And I was feeling guilty about it. That brat is a demon from hell."

Antonio chuckled again.

"He's not that bad. He's just...uh...like he was raised by wolves or something. Anxious wolves. I think he really doesn't know better. But he is kind of sweet deep down."

"Yeah, as sweet as a lemon" Aragon mumbled "Well, wolves or not, we may need him, kiddo. We really need his grandpa to side with us."

Aragon ruffled Antonio's already messy hair and gave him _that_ proud look the kid lived for. The one with the lopsided smile and the caring eyes reserved just for special occasions. Antonio grinned in delight. Whenever his father looked at him like that, he felt like a weight had been lifted from him. Like he had found the holy grail. At that moment he'd agree to anything.

"Do you think you can keep the good work up for a bit more, Tonio? Hm?"

"Yes sir!"

"Good boy."

Antonio's eyes sparkled happily at the words. He followed his father's movements as the man got rid of his expensive jacket and various concealed weapons. Something scratched uncomfortably at the back of his mind, questions about what was wrong with Lovino to be pushed away by the adults in such a way, but his gnawing hunger for praise was too strong for him to pay attention to those. He had to think of something else his father wanted to hear and quick.

"They've got no army." he blurted, delighted when his father's attention turned to him again.

"Is that so?"Aragon hummed. Antonio nodded.

"Lovino told me that he doesn't have one. And Papal States's army was smashed in the last clash with the Normans. Right? Why would Rome try to get us to give him an excuse to invade if he has nothing to invade with?" Aragon smiled proudly.

"Why bother? He's got no army."

"Because if we are allies of Rome, any attack on us will be an attack on the Pope. If France tries to take me over Holy Roman, and Italy, and your mom and every Christian nation will have the right and the duty to attack him. You know how much Holy Roman would use any excuse for that."

"You could go back to Grandma's home. France can't get through her mountains. You would be safe there…"He mumbled, sad and hopeless " You could ally with Grandpa Leon..."

"Tonio, do not start with that again…"

"Mom lives with Grandpa and she's strong! Portugal lives there too, and he might help..."

"Tonio…We've discussed this, remember?"

The kid looked down, his heart breaking a little.

"Yes. I'm sorry." His father sighted

"It's okay. It is your nature to pull for us to be together, I guess." Aragon waved dismissively. Antonio nodded guiltily. He did want the to be together, but he knew it was a bad thing to say.

"Let me see how your wounds are, okay?" his father said in a fake cheery voice.

Antonio nodded, trying his best to push his previous sadness away as he was expected to. He took his shirt off and lay on his stomach on Aragon's bed. He grabbed the closest pillow and pressed his face against it, preventively. The man sat by him and examined the swollen lines that covered the young back. When the tip of his fingers brushed the wounds delicately, he noticed the skin was still far too warm. Antonio bit the pillow and squirmed under the touch.

"It's healing slower than the last time" Aragon sighted, concerned and sorry for his son.

"I know," the kid whispered. "I'm getting weaker."

"Is it the drought?"

"Yes. It is very bad, especially for mom. But that isn't all, it is also-"

"Your mom's partition, I know about that."

Of course he did! He had helped make it happen. He was there when Antonio's grandma, his former overlady, had joined in the conspiracy against Castile, Antonio's mother. Aragon had instigated it the best he would and used the mess that came later to make his escape and become and independent kingdom himself. For his own good, Aragon needed that string of wars to continue to keep Navarre from dragging him back to her house.

"Mom is in a lot of pain, and Portugal is scared"

"I'm sorry Tonio. That must hurt you" He was honestly sorry for the pain it would cause the kid.

"Dad."

"Yes?"

"Could you help mom? A little? Not against grandmas and grandpa, only against the moors. Please?"

"It isn't so simple, Tonio"

"Please? She's very hurt. And Portugal can't fight the vikings all alone, and..."

"I'm sorry, Tonio, but your mom and I aren't that close."

" But she is the one keeping the moors out, if she is weak they-"

" I said no." The kid closed his eyes and looked down, nodding in submission.

"Okay."

He understood what was going on. His father hoped that, in case of war, he could steal some land. He was like his grandparents, he thought that keeping everyone else weak was a good idea. Antonio wanted to cry, but he knew better than to do that, especially in front of his father. It would get him in more trouble. He just sniffed loudly. His father hand caressed his head kindly.

"Has your fever worsened since your mom's partition?"

"I don't know. Maybe a little."

Aragon touched the kid's forehead with his hand and left it there a couple of seconds. Antonio's skin felt warm to contact, far warmer than it should. The kid's hands felt way too warm too. Antonio leaned into the touch.

"They may get into a civil war, right?"

"I-I don't know. Maybe?"

"Tonio."

"Yes…?"

"You know this but, just in case..You can't let anyone know about how weak you are feeling, okay? Not a word. If France or Rome hear about it they'll be on me in no time."

The kid nodded.

" Okay."

"And Rome won't want us as allies. So, as far as everyone here goes, you are fine, you have always been fine, and nothing hurts," the kid felt bad hearing this, after all if you must hide something is because you have done something wrong, but nodded.

"Okay."

"I also need you to keep the little brat happy, and far away from me. Maybe ask him to show you around. Do you think you can do that?"

"Sure. I will try."

"We need this alliance. We really do. So keep a brave face, okay?" the kid nodded again "Good boy." Aragon caressed the child's hair.

Antonio leaned into the touch like a love starved puppy, face still buried in his pillow.

"I need you to do some work for Rome in a couple of days and help him hunt Saracen pirates. I know you are not feeling well and it may hurt, but would you mind fighting for Rome a bit? It is important" Antonio knew that he wouldn't. He didn't think that his back would even be healed by then, but he also knew that this was not really a question. He didn't want to disappoint his father, so he nodded. "That's my boy. Let's get those wounds cleaned up" Antonio felt a kiss on his cheek, and smiled a little, feeling better "I love you, kiddo."

"I love you, dad." Antonio bit the pillow hard when the soapy cloth pressed gently against his back.

* * *

Lovino played with the two pinecones by the moon lit window of Antonio's room. He had little imagination so he made the cones pretend to be kids pretending to be knights pretending to be in the lava infested den of a dragon. One of the kids had had the impulse to show the other something precious, because the other had saved him the day before, so he had tried to teach his savior his favorite game, the one he played when he was all alone. However, the kid was a mess who got so afraid the other kid wouldn't like the game that he froze and couldn't speak. That dumb kid had been mean, so Lovino decided that he would be the ugliest of the cones. But the other kid had figured out the game anyway, and now both cones were playing happily and going down the hallways, one after the other. It was not a thrilling story, just a recollection of events he replayed over and over again each time he ran out of script. He replayed over and over how the ugly cone had pushed the other, and how the other had been patient and turned and explained so warmly what to do instead, and then guessed what the other meant. He repeated their jumping and hopping from tile to tile and the crawling behind chairs and building bridges of books; he repeated in his head the stories that the older cone told the little one as they walked through the halls. He played formally and quietly. It was boring, but he was training to be able to play for real one day. That day, it would be fun because Antonio made funny sounds and funny faces and funny stories and was just… so good at it. So Lovino devoted himself to his practice diligently, dreaming of the day he mastered the skill of cone-gaming and could show his friend with pride.

At some point one of the ugly cones fell out of his hand and onto the bed. Lovino grabbed it and stared. The happy mouth that the Spaniard had drown on the cone with ink was blurry and looked like a frown. That was not right. But what could he do about it?

Without thinking he took the other cone, its smile still intact, and made the happy cone kiss the other on the top of his pointy head. It felt awkward though, it felt as if the kissing cone would get hurt by the point of his friend's head. So he moved the cone a little and made him kiss the other on the cheek instead. It was cathartic. Lovino felt his own mouth relax in a pleased curve. After some hesitation he attempted making the cones kiss face to face. The idea was to transfer the smile from one to the other, somehow. It didn't work, but it felt nice. Like writing a song and you hitting just the note you didn't know you were looking for. He felt like the sad cone would not be so sad anymore. He made them kiss again, and again. He repeated that over and over until the door clicked open. Lovino hid the cones quickly and looked up to see the actual owner of the room.

Antonio looked a bit surprised to find him there, but he was too tired or sad to care. He changed into his clothes and slid into the bed, not even complaining when the Italian got into the bed with him. He just felt the bundle pressing against him demandingly and, almost automatically, remembered his own promise and hugged the kid, kissing him on the to of his head.

"Lovi, I'm a bit tired now" he mumbled. The Italian didn't get the hint. He just curled tighter into the other boy, expecting the cuddling from the previous night. Antonio was tired, his fever was getting worse and worse this july with both the war and the drought. His forehead no longer just felt warm, he felt as if he was burning now, even his knees and knuckles were starting to hurt, and he just wanted to sleep for a million years but, as usual, he didn't have the heart to deny a hug to a kid. He pushed his own exhaustion aside, curling around the kid and kissing his hair softly.

* * *

Under them, in the street floor of the Pope's palace, the most feared military power in Europe walked in the fresh Italian night. France was feared, and for a good reason. The fear of him had created entire nations in the East, and with good reason. The young heir of the Carolingian Empire had some of the most fertile land and the largest population in Europe, a huge army, and was determined to reunite his father´s lands and live up to his ancestry. The Papal Estate and Holy Roman Empire were two of the thing standing in his way. However, enemies and allies were blurry lines among great powers like them, and being dangerous was no reason to be rude, so the slender teen with an angelic face just did his best to be charming and nice with the flock of German and Italian dignitaries that fluttered around him at the moment. He was there to settle some unsavory diplomatic matters. In other words, to break his alliance with the Papal Estate for good. Byzantine had made him a better offer. Together Byzantine and France would get rid of Holy Roman, split their lands, and then Rome and his grandsons came next.

France smiled imagining how proud his father would be of him! So, yes, France was going the extra mile to try to be nice to the Italians and Germans around him right now. Since he was going to conquer them all soon, he could at least me nice to them now.

"The good part of being sent on diplomatic missions is that one can see the world. Standing of course, after days on horseback I won't be able to sit down in the next year"

" Are you sure that's the cause?" France jokes. They all laughed.

"Pleasant kingdom, Italy. And Venice is such a strange place. There are entire neighborhoods for boys to kiss each other. So much so that the city is full of concerned fathers and lonely ladies, which is quite convenient for me" The German page winked an eye, France laughed politely.

" Sounds like a fun place for everyone." France agreed.

"How are things in your land, MyLord?" "Well. The way I see it, my friends, if it is going to happen anyway, put it into a brothel and tax it" The crowd laughed and nodded in approval.

"Yes, the city is very pleasant for a visit, but...well, one can't help but wonder, is this idle life going to turn the youth lazy? Will they be too used to self-gratification to take the sacrifices of raising a family, as they should? "

" Well, isn't the goal of peace to enjoy oneself?" the blond nation suggested. The German didn´t seem persuaded.

"Of course, as long as they are also capable of sacrifices when war comes back. But I´m afraid life in the cities has become far too comfortable. Respectable intellectuals in Italy are reacting against this mess, and rightly so!"

"They just react against new times!" a young Venetian page protested." There is even this guy now going around and saying that the entire thing should be outlawed. Only the idiots pay any attention, of course, but still".

" Oh! Speaking of outlawing and of insanity! The Iberians do that!" France commented lightly.

"Really?" exclaimed the Italian.

" U-Hum. Real retrogrades! Instead of just taxing it like normal people they make it against the law. Castration and exile for culprits, I believe. A Goth tradition, they say" Francis pushed a blonde lock behind his ear.

"Well, I understand it to an extent, nobody wants effeminate citizens." The german defended, but France waved him off.

"Of course not, I don´t want that either, and ever dear England would laugh the heck out of the looser that allows _that_ to be done to them! But that is the funny part my friend. But my dear half-moors punish the active part instead of the effeminate one, can you believe that? Well, both really, but they have so many exceptions for the weak part! If they had no choice if they were fourteen or younger...

"Fourtheen? What´s the difference?"

"I have no idea!" And Francis indeed didn´t have any idea. His father used to do that to him and he had turned out alright. But Portugal and Castile flipped the tables at the idea of a kid being mixed in this, they treated them as some sort of victim! Weird. " And that's not all" France continued in a gossipy voice "That's not the only crazy thing they do. They don't acknowledge the Ordeal either like all civilized nation does! Dear England and I have spent three solid centuries trying to get them to see the light, but they are immune to reason. They make it even illegal to believe in magic, or throw people tied up to lakes to see if they float! Total insanity!"

Italians and Germans looked at each other in absolute puzzlement. Rejecting an ordeal what was the end of insanity. What an oppressive system! If a man can't tie another man up and throw him to a river to see if he floats, what is he to do?.

Overcome by such a nonsense, the guests just shook their heads and tried to resume the previous line of conversation.

"Well, at least the crazy guy in Italy isn't saying anything about Ordeals" The Venetian laughed, relieved .

"They must have too much jew in them."

"Clearly" France agreed " They are the oddballs of Europe."

"Now I worry about what influence they might have in the Pope´s lands" One of the Italian priests commented " Aragon of Iberia is here with his son, I´ve heard that he wants an alliance with Rome."

Francis looked amused. Aragon here? What did his weak lost brother think he could do?

* * *

"It is not her fault! Italy is just easily impressed! And those awful news about the priest in England have distressed her a lot!" Holy Roman kept complaining angrily. His boss rolled his eyes, considering if gagging the little nation with a cushion.

"Okay! Nobody is saying it is Italy's fault! I´m just saying she is starting to write really incendiary things about clergy, and sex being evil, and all that, and people may get hurt if she doesn´t calm down!"

"Maybe we should listen to her. She is very smart. And she paints really well. And-" The poor Lord of Bohemia sighed in defeat, and let the little blond nation go on and on about how awesome Italy was for about ten minutes.

"Fine!" The human snapped finally "I will consider taking her theology more seriously, but now you should stop thinking about her for five damn minutes and focus, alright? We have still not recovered South Italy and Rome is still playing with us! He refuses to let you chose the next Pope and if this crisis drags any longer things are going to get ugly fast."

"Why can´t I just invade them?" The little blonde pouted. His boss just sighed in frustration.

"Because his Pope´s words are the only thing keeping you in one piece. That´s why we can´t let Rome get control of the Pope´s election, or we´ll be screwed! And because of France. Are you sure you want a fight with that beast?"

Boy did the Emperor hated that cursed nation! If not for France´s protection over Rome he would have finished this whole Pope-naming nonsense a long time ago and whipped the old Empire back in place. If not for Rome, he´d actually gotten control of half of the world, to be honest, but the cursed spring of Charlemagne had to be in the way, terrorizing Europe with his endless manpower and his golden locks.

* * *

"Lovi..." A sleepy voice whispered in the deep silent night.

"Hm?"

"Do you think you could show me around your city? I really want to see it."

"Yeah-Sure. Why not?" The kid snuggled in the arms of the other. It was warm, very very warm, like made out of sunlight. Wait. "Are you sick?" Lovino asked suddenly, giving the other a suspicious gaze. Antonio felt his breath catch but just smiled as inocently as he could.  
"Of course not! I´m always warm. Is the sun in my land."

"Ohh...Alright then" The Italian closed his eyes again, while Antonio sighed in relief. That had been close.

* * *

All the politics that the other bit is missing came out here! I hope that it was not too dense!  
Ah! The homophobic middle ages! They were so intolerant and dark and repressive, right? Well, for the most part they weren't, really.

*The church had always condemned lust and homosexuality, but it was a very relaxed condemnation. Lust was regarded much like gluttony or sloth are now. Country folk with no aspiration to sainthood took sex as a hobby.

* Homosexuality was always condemned by the church as a form of lust but still, nobody cared that much. Things regarding homosexual persecution had been terrible in the late Roman Empire but in the low middle ages they relaxed a lot.  
The few " nations" who cared about it usually condemned the pasive part out for the humiliation that being "turned into a female" implied. Germanic areas frowned upon it. England was big on social condemnation, and Iberia and Greece were among the few places with specific law against it, even though in Iberia people didn´t care thatmuch about implementing it. Non-border areas were very relaxed. Venice had a very active "gay scene",gay bars and neighborhoods, and gay PDA included. France had gay brothels just like it had regular ones. South Italy and Germany frowned on the pasive side a bit but didn´t care much as long as "social status was respected", etc...Not the image of the Middle Ages we get from TV, right?  
* This will change exactly at this time though, and exactly because of the book in quoting.

* The readings of the priests are from the Liber Gomorrhianus, a 11th century text published in North Italy that resurrected old Roman Homophobia and added to it. It was a text focussing on denouncing vices and corruption within the church, and to advocate for celibacy among clergy, but it made a long detour to rant against male homosexuality in general, as you read. (The translation from Italian is mine). The pope indeed considered it too virulent and radical on the homophobic front and banned it to avoid inciting hate ( I kid you not)  
* Ordeals: aka "trials of God",were ancient test of guilt or innocence by subjection of the accused to life threatening situations or severe pain, survival of which was taken as divine proof of innocence. The whole "tie someone up and throw them to the water to see if they float" was one of them. They were part of the French tradition (they are first documented in the sixth century but it seems to have been anancient tradition of the Franks). This very unreasonable trial system spread to England, Italy and Germany, where they became very common by the 8th century. In Iberia, however, ordeals were seen as dangerous superstition and, therefore, ilegal. While most of the North was throwing people in qualdrons of boiling water they were developing a proto-jury based system. In the 11th century though, French influence got some types of ordeals legalized (combat and fire). Progress!


	8. Daniel and the Lion (August 1054)

_-Dear God, protect me from my friends, for my enemies I see coming and I can handle on my own -  
(Italian and Spanish Proverb) _

* * *

The sun was spilling through the window and burning right into his brain. His burning eyes were not helped by the shaking that tried to pull him out from the conformable fog of unconsciousness by shaking his brain out of his skull.

"Up!"

Antonio growled and turned around, covering himself with the blanket, only to have it yanked off. He would be mad at the offender, if not for the fog of the fever that made his thought hazy and his joints ache. He had been dreaming. Dreams filled with his mother and uncle talking in whispers, standing a bit too close for siblings as they always were. There was a king, two, three, four, and a scar on his mother's face; the smoke of burning fields and peasants rising up against his grandma wafting through his vision. He felt sick. Physically sick, and sick with worry.

What time was it?

"Wake up, you jerk! Wake up! You've been sleeping forever!"

Antonio wanted to send the voice to hell but couldn't even bring himself to put those thoughts in words, his mind too sluggish by the fever. He growled again and forced himself to sit up, pushing through the tantalizing pull of sleep and the resulting headrush that sent the world spinning.

"What?", he mumbled, hoping to gain some time. He barely had time to register where he was, and what was going on, when two painted pinecones where shoved in his lap.

"Finally! I've waited all day! You tell me a story!" the voice demanded. "and then you are going to play with me!"

Antonio stared, his groggy brain trying to process the situation. Then he growled and let himself fall back into the bed, cones still in his hands and arm over his eyes. This couldn't be happening so early. Please, it wasn't.

By the time he went down for breakfast, Lovino leading the march and Antonio stumbling behind with his eyelids still heavy. Everyone was there already. There were two chairs prepared at the furthest extreme of the table, ten feet away from everybody else.

Antonio glared weakly at the adults that were eating across the no man's land of empty table, pretending that the entire arrangement of who was doomed to babysit the little beast from hell had nothing to do with them.

"Very subtle" He grumbled at the new dutty he had just been assigned. He sat down and sank his face in his hands. Boy, did he hate grown-ups sometimes! They always left him with the hard work. His back and bottom still hurt, and his mind was foggy from civil unrest and the beating drums of war, bang, bang bang! God! He missed his bed so much! And if he woke up any further he´d start thinking about his family, and how he should be there keeping them from fighting, and it´d be worse!

A chirpy servant interrupted his dark meditations, leaving a slice of bread and cheese in front of him.

"Good morning, Daniel" She chirped.

"It's Antonio" He corrected slurring still. The young woman just giggled and left. Antonio felt that he was missing something here, but he didn't give a damn.

"Get some food you jerk! You'll end up starving if you don't smarten up!"

"I'm going" he lied. Was falling asleep on a breakfast table poor Italian etiquette? Probably. Damn!

* * *

The morning was bright, a Shiny Tuesday

" And that is the coliseum, which my grandpa built, and this way here is this funny street, that I like because it has a lion, and…"

Lovino led the march once again, proudly pointing at everything around him as if he owned the place. Meanwhile, it was the people in the place what had caught Antonio's eye this time. It was the third time he saw a noble lady or a smart looking youngster slyly sliding a book to a neighbor. He recognized the book, even if he had no idea of what it contained. It was the book that the previous pope had banned for being " too dangerous"; the same book that the young priests in Lovino's home had been reading.

Antonio liked how noisy everything was, and how everyone gestured and said what was in their minds. With another chuckle he looked at the little brat that was dragging him all across the city at a breakneck doubletime. Who knows? Maybe they were more alike than he thought.

"..and Rotten Face wants to take me over. He says I´m part of his EMpire, but my ass! I don't like him! And I´m not gonna go with him!"

"Wow, resisting Holy Roman is very Impressive Lovi" Antonio mumbled with the fakest enthusiasm known to man.

"Well, It´s not like I resist him" the kid grumbled "it´s France. He fights Holy Rotten Face off because he wants me to go with him too. He says that my mom lived in his father's house or some shit but I don´t care! I´m not going with him either! and-"

"Achoo!"

"Did you just sneeze?"

"No! Ehem, go on, what about Byzantine? You like hi."

"You did sneeze!"

" Not at all!" The Italian gave him a suspicious look. Quick Antonio needed to distract him!

"I've heard Maghreb say that you can't cook."

"You have heard _what_?" Lovino broke into an explosion of curses, and dragged Antonio angrily towards some destination to prove him wrong forever and ever.

 _That was close!_

So he was coming down with a recession in addition to civil unrest and a looming civil war. Wasn't life just great?

As he was dragged half across the city and fed, he tried to keep his worries away, complimenting every dish regardless of whether he liked it or not. Halfway across the process he noticed Lovino blush up to his ears with every compliment, a shy smile forming on his lips, as if the kid had been starving for a single kind word for a century. Antonio´s heart softened yet again, with a smile of his own.

"Hey, Lovi"

"Hm?"

"Do you want me to tell you a story while we eat? We can go back home after. I´ll give you a piggyback ride! How does that sound?" The kid's eyes brightened up like two stars. Antonio chuckled. Maybe he´d grow to be actual friends with the kid, after all.

From afar, one of the human waiters laughted good naturedly.  
"Good job Daniel, he looks at you as if you walked on water"

"It´s Antonio, actually" The man laughted and walked away.

* * *

 _"Dear God, I offer you all the pain I´m going through now and I promise I won't complain at all, please keep Mom, and Grandpa, and Uncle and my Grandmas from fighting again while I´m not there. I'll be back soon, I promise. Please, give me a little more time... Amen."_

Moonlight broke weakly through the clouds and fell on Antonio like fairy dust. The kid had his eyes closed and hands together, praying in a whisper by the bed. As soon a she turned he noticed Lovino standing at the door with a pillow in his hand. The kid hadn't just rushed into the room as he used to, demanding Antonio´s immediate attention like he had this morning. He had stayed by the door, squeezing his pillow and blushing by the embarrassment of interrupting such an intimate moment. Or so Antonio guessed, he wasn't sure of why else the kid would be blushing so furiously.

With a half smirk, Lovino stood straight in his nightclothes and observed with some amusement how the kid didn't come in and took his bed over, just stood there in the doorframe, cheeks getting darker every second he spent under Antonio´s gaze.

"Is everything okay?" the Iberian asked, half curious, half amused. Lovino tightened his grip on the pillow and nodded enthusiastically.

"Can I...uh..?" Antonio chuckled. Lovino had taken his bed over every night so far, but asking for permission was new. The second Antonio chuckled Lovino darted towards the bed and buried himself in the covers, trying to look forceful but looking a bit desperate. Antonio smiled again and got his own place among the covers.

"I still don't get why you don't use your own bed"

"It's cold" he informed "and shut up" Antonio smiled sidewise. He didn't like to share his bed, but he had promised to God to handle his new responsibilities without complaining, hadn't he? In a way the more difficult Lovino was, the better for his bargain, and the most likely that god would keep his family from fighting.

With a chuckle he covered the kid and himself with a blanket.

"You are cute" Lovino mumbled half asleep "but you pray weird". Antonio looked amused at that last part, but paid it no mind.

* * *

Days kept going by. The date for Antonio to leave had been pushed back a couple of weeks. It was a gloomy evening. Summer in Italy sometimes had those days of sad,stormy weather. Antonio kneeled by the kid, now that his anger had been diffused and that all the human servants had been rescued by the Iberian´s intervention. Lovino was on the kitchen floor, pale and exhausted. Who wouldn't be after such a tantrum?

"Okay, so, what do you feel when you get angry?" Lovino shrugged, defensive. Around them lay the destroyed leftovers of the kitchen, no servant left in sight. One of those bastards was dripping blood from the nose, but he had it coming, even if Lovino couldn't remember what they had done to unleash his fury. Nothing, probably. Antonio considered that it was a good teachable moment. Lovino disagreed, but he knew he'd end up listening anyway. The Spaniard had that sort of easy commanding power that unsettled him deeply. It had something to do with his smile, he was sure.

"Red"

"Red?" Lovino frowned at the voice. TGhere was somethign strange in the way Antonio sounded. He almost sounded...excited? Well, he had made amess of the kitchen and yelled everyone but him out, and hit a human with a chair, he was sureAntonio was supposed to be mad, not excited. Indeed, Antonio was trying to look solemn, but there had been a sparkle in his eyes, something like recognition, sudden understanding, that had come through the solemn facade.

No way, it must be Lovino´s imagination. Maybe Antonio was just faking tobe suddenly extra interested. Maybe he was about to make fun of him.

"Yeah. I-I feel red, okay?"

"It's the same for me! Nobody had explained like that before! I thought it was just me" The kid exclaimed. Lovino looked at him; he looked so honest...the bastard. He even looked honest when he cleared his throat, bringing himself back from the extra enthusiasm "You need to catch yourself before you get there though, once the red comes, you are lost" Lovino glanced unconvinced.

"what do you feel right before feeling red?" "Nothing"

"C'mon, there is always something" Lovino shrugged. He wanted to end the conversation, but he found himself thinking hard and trying to answer that too, his eyes swimming deep in green, a soothing color that calmed his nerves and made him feel warm. He liked how he felt when Antonio smiled, and when he congratulated him and told him that he was proud. And now he's saying… that he sees red too? That sometimes he gets so mad he wants to tear the world apart just so he can be alone and not have to look anyone in the eye anymore, or have them stare down at you or abandon you or… well. It felt good to know there was someone like him, who understood. Maybe that's why he listened, hanging to every word, and making his best to answer.

* * *

Days kept going by, the light of the dying sun come through the windows, making the hallways bright and yellow.

"Come here!" a teasing laughter echoed through the high ceilings of the palace.  
"You are big and slow!"  
"I'm not slow! You are really quick!" Another delighted laughter echoed around. At this point Antonio already knew how much Lovino loved compliments. And this one was true! Antonio might be letting him win on purpose, but still, the little Italian was extremely fast for his age!. Antonio had no clue of how the kid was at fighting, but he sure could run!  
They ran past fine statues, past the guest's rooms, even past Rome's office, where a viking-looking fella was just being received. The glow in his friend's eyes every time he managed to make a narrow escape and run up or down stairs was priceless, all smiley and glowing, as if he had just made his triumphant entrance after conquering Rome, and Antonio…well, he couldn't help but smile when looking at it.

* * *

CRASH!

Then silence.

Lovino couldn't remember what happened that morning. The Iberians were leaving tomorrow morning for a week, to hunt pirates, and Lovino had been on edge all day. All he could remember was screaming and shouting, tears of rage and red face. The infuriating Hispanic just with his arms crossed and refusing to go down to his level, but yelling something back at him, everything turning red, and then the image of the vase, frozen, like out of time, turning on itself and very slowly, smashing against the marble floor, with a noise that brought the entire world to normal speed again.

Antonio was looking at him, with wide eyes, and if Lovino could he'd stare at himself as well. That was a present that Ancient Greece had given to his grandpa centuries ago. Lovino felt cold sweat, and looked at the Spaniard with the desperate need to apologize, but that's not who he'd have to apologize to.

Doors opened, the meeting room by their left opened too. Rome, Aragon, France, along with an entire array of dignitaries poked their heads from every door around them, and Lovino felt his voice lost in his throat. His eyes flew to Rome, how his grandpa's face contorted when he saw the pieces of that present his dead lover had given him so many years ago. Lovino found himself hiding behind the kid he had been screaming at a second ago. Antonio didn't seem happy about this, but he didn't step aside, he just took the glares from everyone, stiff but calm, at least in Lovino's eyes.

"What has happened here?" Rome's voice was a roar that echoed in the stillness of the lofty ceilings.

Lovino knew they had been in this situation was like a second chance. His moment. The moment to show that he had learned. The moment to step up, and make amends for what he failed to do the first day he met Antonio! He can't feel that Toni is expecting it, demanding it almost, tense and glancing sideways at him, a thick aura of irritation coming off him in waves so dense that Lovino could make a cloak out of them.

But he can't. he can't, he realized, and just a glance at his grandfather is enough to make him want to disappear into the floor, embarrassment eating him up. He can't face him. He can't say it was him and get his grandpa to hate him even more, to be even more disappointed with him and spend even less time with him. He barely saw him at all. He barely saw anybody at all. He couldn't. They'd hate him. They'd hate him even more. He couldn't breathe. Suddenly he couldn't breathe. He clenched his hands in Antonio's pants, trying to find his voice desperately

"Well, Antonio? What happened here?" Aragon's voice. Calm. Dangerously calm

"Please" Lovino breathed out, to overcome by panic to even think "Please don't tell him. Please don't tell him"

He could feel Antonio tensing up, and looking over him. Disappointment. Resentment. Lovino wanted Toni to stop gazing at him like that. He wanted to be braver. He wanted to. But he couldn't. He couldn't. He was a coward, and he was too afraid of his grandpa despising him. He'd be alone completely. The black void would eat him alive , he was sure of this

"Please, save me"

Antonio let out a long breath.

"It was me" He finally said "Lovino and I started an argument and...the vase fell."

The silence that came after didn't bode well,but there was no silence in Lovino's head. He was seven, and engulfed by panic. His terror and his conscience were driving him insane, and when Antonio pushed off his grips from his clothes, he felt like he was going to faint. The Spaniard started moving away, following an order that Lovino had not heard.

"I'm sorry Roma, truly. If you'll excuse us for the morning I'll make sure that this doesn't happen again"

The words got caught in his throat as he tried to speak, gasping like a fish out of the water, trying desperately to find his courage and his voice to stop the two retreating figures. Images of Antonio's lashed back flashed in front of him. Rome's enraged gaze falling down on him told him that the only reason why Aragon and his son were still in the house was because Rome had not really believed Antonio.

Romano spend the rest of the evening trying to do the right thing. He spent it walking to Aragon's closed door, trying to knock, and running away in panic in the last minute. Antonio's father was terrifying. He might not be big but the had that heartless aura around him of someone who had been dragged through hell and survived.. Would the man hit him too? Drag him in? Will he lash him too? Would his grandpa care? Maybe not.

Lovino really wanted to save Antonio, but the second he heard his own knuckles hit the door he found himself running down the halway, utterly terrified.

The lashing sound from the inside made him throw up on the hall carpet.

* * *

The door creaked. The blue light of the night illuminated a figure lying on his stomach on the bed. This also was the same. The same, but different. Antonio didn't turn to say hi, even though he had heard him. The only glances that Lovino could steal from him were angry flashes of green he didn't have the backbone to take them.

The apologies were stuck in his throat, somewhere between pride and shame. Shame mostly. He tried to get angry. It didn't work. He waited for Antonio to say something, to get angry himself and kick him out. He didn't. Lovino ended up sleeping curled at the foot of the bed. He didn't think Antonio even noticed, he was too busy muffling his coughing.

"But I was trying to not hit people; I hit things, like you said...Aren't you a little proud?" He whispered quietly. He felt really hurt at the lack of a response, even if he knew that he was whispering too quietly for Antonio to hear him. He didn't dare being louder.

By the time he woke up Antonio had already left for the sea, his boots and weapons missing from the room.¶

* * *

Antonio smiled, all his senses on the men on the other ship about to launch an attack on them. His crossbow was low and under the visual barrier of the edge of their innocent merchant ship, his eyes darted from one end of the Berber pirate ship to the other, counting the masts, the men, and calculating all possible trajectories their unsuspecting attackers could take while boarding them. In no time his expert eyes were filled with triangles and circles and cones of every possible path and a map of the best strategy. This was going to be easy. Like hunting ducks. He and his men would get rid of them all before they managed to even touch the floor of their ship, and if for some strange reason any of them managed to land...Antonio hoped some of them did, his sword was itching to be used. Then it would be them jumping over to the other side. Hell yes!

He glanced at his father, who tried to look as innocent as possible while keeping his crossbow out of sight. Antonio did the same, big green eyes blinking forward with innocence, fingers caressing the trigger of the crossbow. He couldn't wait for the pirates to throw their hooks to his boat and start swinging in the air.

"Keep a tally and the head of the captain, Rome will want to know how many we got" Antonio nodded, obediently, like the good boy he was, his first shots already prepared in his head.

"We'll keep the captain's head for Rome!"

"That's exactly what I was thinking. Do we have an empty sack?"

"I brought one, it's in my room"

"Good boy!"

Aragon blinked at the kid, and the world around Antonio became lighter by a million pounds. He smiled back at his father, adoring green eyes sparkling, and got a smile in return, and another wing that swelled his heart and made him much more at ease. It was always great to feel that his dad wasn't really mad at him. He'd done something bad, he'd been punished and now it was past, that was all, and his dad still looked at him with pride, expecting great things of him.

This was going to be like hunting ducks! His head still hurt and his fever was still high, but he was used to push through it. So much so that he could easily forget about pain completely. It was going to be fun!

* * *

Rome felt the stiffness leaving his old knuckles, and smiled looking at the bright sea through the window of his study. His Iberian dogs were doing a good job, he could already feel it.

He indulged himself in the contemplation of his list, and crossed an Item out of his list, just to tuck it in ia box, for his eyes only. As much as he wanted to share this with the world, this joke should stay private, for now. Ah, did they really think that he didn't see his own disgregation coming? They were always playing on his terms, and now their children would be nothing but his puppets. Again.

Who would have thought that those two mountain dwellers, dark, gruff and dirty blooded, would be so damn good at sea? Well, it was convenient for now. He had no plans on allowing Iberia to become a problem with number 8 a second time, and had no problem throwing his favorite weapon straight at them if he discovered that they were going to be one.

 _How to rebuild your Empire in 10 simple steps:_

 _1-Get it unified under a single religion with a hierarchical structure. (checked)_

 _2-Make sure that the poor idiots that plan to invade it convert to that religion too._

 _3-Make yourself the head of that religion.(checked)_

 _4-Put a leash around a large and powerful nation to make it your protector in your time of weakness.(checked)_

 _5-Do the same with a second powerful nation, and keep both pinned against each other, so none of them grows too close to controlling you. If one or both get too unruly, destroy it. Repeat as necessary. (checked)_

 _6-Break ties with both of them and get independent ruler. (freshly checked)_

 _7-Get my own army (in progress)_

 _8-Unify culture, doctrine and practice in my future Empire, to make it easy to rule._

 _9- Give church full independence from the local estates._

 _10-Laugh_

There was a knock on the door.

"Ah! Francis! Come in, you are right on time!"

A beautiful teen with big blue eyes and golden locks opened the door.

"Your Holiness"

"No need to be so formal kid. You look stronger each day, you know? You remind me so much of your father"

A shy smile tugging at his lip. Rome had to make a great effort to not let the rush of power that went through his veins show. Every time he saw France he couldn't help but think about Carolingian, his first number 3, and number 4. He had been useful, but far too wise for his own good. Eventually, he had to be disposed of. France was much better. Young. Inexperienced. Behind his confidence and his endless soldiers the terror of Europe was nothing but an orphaned kid that ached for the approval of a dead father and struggled to recreate an Empire he could barely remember. That was okay though, the not remembering. Rome did, and he'd have no problem telling Francis exactly how things used to be. Everything he asked. He could count on Rome to tell him exactly what happened.

* * *

Since Antonio came back from the sea. Lovino had barely approached him. The little Italian walked around him, poked his head around corners, or even slept in the same room but seemed to keep his distance at all times. It was like having a semi feral cat.

Lovino was probably afraid that Antonio was mad at him. He should be, but the truth is that he wasn't. It was not in his nature to hate. He was just...a little annoyed that the little bugger couldn't be bothered to say thanks, or sorry, or anything at all. But that was okay. The kid was what he was, a coward and a selfish rat, and Antonio wasn't in the habit of fighting destiny. You can't expect apples from an almond tree.

He eventually managed to persuade Lovino that he wasn't going to bite his head off just for coming close. He had orders to get along with the kid after all. He played with him, told him bedtime stories and even tolerated the persistent presence of the kid in his bed-for unknown reasons- and To everyone's releif, continued to play babysitter, but he couldn't help to feel detached while he did so. Antonio couldn't stand cowards, and he couldn't stand traitors; courage and loyalty were his biggest values and Lovino had shown that he lacked both. He was not the type of person Antonio could feel true appreciation for or get along with for long.

That morning the church bells called him, and everyone else, to major mass. Antonio dragged himself to his feet and shook Lovino softly to get him to do the same. A pinch of excitement sparking through the sleepiness of the morning. It was the first time he was going to hear mass in the cathedral! So far every sunday he had been called to sea, and mass had been led by the priest that sailed with them, once the man was done cleaning blood from his shirt of course.

"I won't be able to go with you. Try to make us look good tomorrow Tonio"

"Yes, dad!"

Lovino walked by him, holding his hand and rubbing sleepness out of his eyes. The breakfast was quick and the interior of the church every bit as impressive as Antonio had imagined. Then the priest came in, and everything stopped making sense. Everyone stood up, and then sat down, and they stood back up. What the hell were they doing?

The priest said something. Everyone answered at once something else. How did they know what to say? Antonio tried to follow suit, but he was clumsy and clearly trying to copy them. Everyone sat down again, unprompted as far as Antonio could see. He did the same, again a second late. He looked at Lovino in confusion. The child was also looking at him. He had noticed. Damn! If he had noticed everyone must have noticed too! Was everyone looking at him? Probably. His face started to heat up, his hands started to sweat. Everyone said something else that he missed entirely. This was not how things were done in his land. It wasn't even close. Not even the music was similar, grave and filled with notes it didn't need. Wait! Was it bad that they didn't do things the same way at home? Another mechanical missed. God! By his side, Lovino had started making his movements slower, trying to allow Antonio to copy him. He tried, but it was still clear that he was copying. Damn! He had never felt so embarrassed. Church was important for him. Feeling out of place in here was especially strange. Was he embarrassing his father? Was Rome looking at him?

"Tonio? Are you okay?"

He risked a glance over his shoulder. Yes, the old empire was looking at him, digging his eyes in his neck, that burning intelligence alive and scrutinizing, about to discover that he was just copying Lovino's actions the best he could. Another unexpected change in motion. Shit! Now he was sure that his cheeks were pink at least. Lovino gave him a worried look, but Antonio just looked away, trying to figure out what on Earth was going on. Why did everyone do things strange? Was this what his father meant with giving a good impression?

"Tonio?"

Antonio didn't answer. Shit, when was the palace become so hot? The neck of his shirt so tight? Rome changed benches and started to sit by Antonio, suspicion in his eyes. He was going to notice that Antonio was just moving his mouth, not even lip synching the right words. And maybe it wasn't just him. Antonio was sure that everyone around was starting to look at him. He closed his eyes, throat tight, and wished for a second really really hard for the Earth to swallow him whole, for everyone to disappear, for a miracle to stop this madness that made no sense to him and was putting him to absolute shame. He opened his eyes just in time to see Lovino running towards the altar.

Yeah, that's it, Lovino was no longer by his side, he was running towards the golden chandelier that rested at each side of the three steps leading to the altar. The Italian kicked the ornament, making it fall towards the altar itself. The candles fell on the flowers and the sacred oil, and rose up in a plume of fire that caught the bishop's vest as well. The man gave a very undignified jump, and chaos broke as deacons argued whether holy water could be used to extinguish regular fire-the bishop seemed to think it shouldn't, but that left him in a precarious position. For Antonio the entire havoc that broke afterwards, raging adults and indignated screams felt like distant slow motion, everything did but for Lovino's eyes, intense and pointed straight at him

The service was canceled for extenuating circumstances. Once outside Lovino got the most epic and terrifying earful known to man, and endured it with clenched fists while Antonio observed from a distance, still amazed. It seems like he had misjudged Lovino, after all.

Aragon arrived with a string of excuses ready to explain Antonio's behaviour and hide his own ignorance of how the Roman rite went, but he didn't find the furious ex-empire. Well, he did, but the fury wasn't oriented towards the kid he expected it to be. There was perfumed smoke everywhere, Rome and every single human with authority were loosing their minds and telling at Livino, and his own kid was frozen at one side, observing it all as if he felt...moved? Touched? Flattered?

* * *

Based on:

France/Papal states relationshi.

The Gothic rite of mass, also called Mozarabic rite. It was a traditional form of worship developed and practiced in all of Iberia. It was heavily influenced by Arrianism and Islam, that was declared heretic when the Roman mass became the only acceptable one. It was part of the very heterodox Iberian catholic tradition, it included both a different mass, different music and different style of prayer. That´s why Antonio "prays funny" and doesn´t know what is going on in a Roman mass. The pope didn´t like it before but in 1059 he declared it heresy-by extension- along with the greek tradition.  
Well, Rome hasshown his cards. (Of course that is my reinterpretation of the events in the history of Papal power).  
Sources are the previous ones, mostly.


End file.
